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COLLECTION 


SONGS, 


SELECTED    FROM    THE    WORKS    OF 

MR.  DIBDIN. 

TO   WHICH  ARE  ADDED, 
THE  NEWEST  AND  MOST  FAVOURITE 

AMERICAN  PATRIOTIC  SONGS, 


Let  there  be  Mufc,  Id  the  Mafter  touch 

The  fprightly  String,  andjoftly  breathing  Flute. 


--  Ev'n  dge  itftlj  is  cheer'  d  with 

It  wakes  a  glad  remembrance  of  cur  youth, 

Ca/is  back  pajljoy*,  andwarrm  us  into  transport  I 

If  to  be  merry's  to  be  wife,  to  be  wife  is  to  be  merry. 


Rowc. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 

PRINTED   B Y    T .   B1ORENFOR     H.<££p,RICEj 
AND  SOLFBY  J.   RICE,  BALTIMORE. 

1799. 


PR 


DIED  TN's 

SELECTED      SONGS. 

SONG — IN  THE  WEDDING  KING. 

1  SAW  what  feem'd  a  harmlefs  child, 

With  wing*  and  bow, 
And  afpecl  mild, 
Who  fobb'd,  and  figh'd,  and  pin'd, 

And  begg'd  I  would  fome  boon  bellow- 
On  a  poor  little  boy  (tone  blind. 
Not  aware  of  the  danger,  I  inflant  comply'd, 

When  h-  drew  from  his  quiver  a  dart', 

Cry'd 

'  My  power  you  fhal!  know,' 
T3ien  fee  levelled  his  bow, 

And  wounded  me  right  in  the  heart. 

BALLAD TN  THE   DESERTER, 


THERE  was  a  miller's  daughter 

Liv'd  in  a  certain  village, 
Who  made  a  mighty  (laughter  : 

For  I'd  have  you  to  know 

Both  friend  and  foe, 

The  clown  and  the  beau, 

She  always  laid  low  ; 
And  her  portion,  as  I  under/land, 
Was  three  acres  of  land, 

Befides  a  mill, 

That  never  flood  flill, 

Some  flier pjtnd  a  cow, 

A  harrow  and  plough, 
And  other  things  for  tillage  : 
What  d'ye  think  of  my  miller's  daughter  ? 
A 


L  BIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

This  miller's  pretty  daughter 

Was  a  damfel  of  fuch  fame  fir, 
That  knights  and  fquires  fought  her; 

But  they  foon  were  told 

That  foinc  were  too  bold, 

And  fome  too  cold, 

And  fome  too  old  ; 
And  ihe  gave  them  to  underfbnd 
That,  though  they  were  grand, 

She'd  never  be  fold  : 
For  fays  Betty,  fays  flie, 
£ince  my  virtue  to  me 

Is  dearer  than  gold, 
Let  'em  go  from  whence  they  came  fir. 
What  d'ye  think  of  my  miller's  daughter? 
But  when  the  miller's  daughter 

Saw  Ned.  the  morr ice- dancer, 
His  perfon  quickly  caught  her  j 

For  who  fo  clean 

Upon  the  green 

As  Ned  was  fccn, 

For  her  his  queen  : 

Then  blithe  as  a  king, 

His  bells  he'd  ring, 

And  dance,  and  Ting, 

Like  any  thing: — 

Says  he,  *  My'life, 

'  Wool  be  my  wife?' 
A  bluCh,  and  yes,  was  Betty's  anfver. 
What  d'ye  think  of  my  miller's  daughter  ? 

BALLAD IN   THE  WATERMAN. 


TWO  youths  for  my  love  are  contending  in  vain  ; 

For,  do  all  they  can, 
Their  fuff 'rings  I  rally,  and  laugh  at  their  pain  ; 

Which,  which  is  the  man 

That  defervos  me  the  moft  ?  Let  me  afk  of  my  heart  ;- 
Is  it  Robin,  who  fniirks,  and  who  drefTes  fo  fmart  ? 
Or  Tom,  honeft  Tom,  who  makes  plaimicfs  his  plan  ? 

Which,  which  is  the  man  ? 
Indeed  to  be  prudent,  and  do  what  I  ought, 

I  tlo  what  I  caa  ; 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

Yet  fnrcly  pap*a  and  mamma  arc  in  fault ; 

To  it  different  man 

They,  each,  have  advifed  me  to  yield  up  my  heart, 
M-.iinma  praifes  Robin,  who  dreflcs  ;'o  fma-t : 
Papa  honeft  Tom,  who  makes  plainnefs  his  plan  : 

Which,  which  is  the  man? 
T?e  kind  then,  my  heart,  and  but  point  out  the  youth, 

I'll  do  what  1  can 
His  love  to  return,  and  return  it  with  truth, 

Which,  which  is  the  man  ? 

Be  kind  to  ray  wifhes,  and  point  out,  my  heart, 
Is  it  Robin,  who  fmirks,  and  who  drefics  fo  fmart  ? 
Or  Tim,  honeft  Tprn,  who  makes  plaiuncfs  his  pi  in  ? 

Which,  which  is  the  man  ? 


BALLAD IN   T'JE   WATERMAN. 

AND  did  you  not  hear  of  a  jolly  young  waterman, 

Who  at  Black  friar's  bridge  ufea  for  to  ply  ; 

And  he  fearher'd  his  o/rs  with  fudi  fkili  and  dexterity, 

Winning  each  heart,  and  delighting  each  eye 

He  Ipok  d  fu  neat,  and  row'd  fo  IteaHily, 

The  maidens  all  flook'd  in  his  boat  fo  readily, 

And  lit  ey'd  the  young  rogues  with  fo  charming  an  air. 

That  this  waterman  ne'er  was  in  want  of  a  iare. 

Wh.-t  fights  of  fine  folks  he  oft  row'd  in  his  when  v, 

T was  clean'd  out  fo  nice,  and  f.i  paihtta  withal  ; 

Ke  was  always  ft:  ft  oafs  \vm.n  tl>c  line  city  ladies 

In  a  party  to  Ranelagh  went,  or  V-"uxhall 

And  oftentimes  would  they  be  giggling  and  leering, 

But  'twas  all  one  to  Tom,  thjpr  jibing  and  jeering, 

For  loving  or  liking  he  littrtKlic!  care. 

For  this  waterman  ne'er  was  in    want  of  a  fare. 

And  yet  but  to  fee  how  flrangely  tilings  happen, 
As  he  row'd  along,  thinking  of  nothing   at  all, 
He  was  ply'cl   'jy  a  flarnjcf  fo  lovely  and  charming, 
That  (lie  fi':i!'d,  and  fo  (traitway  in  love  he  did  fv.II. 
And  wo'i'J  t!-.is  young  damftl  but  banifh  his  forrow, 
He'd  wed  her  to-night,  before  to-rtK^rrow, 
And  how  fliould  this  ua.erman  ever  know  cnre, 
V\"hcn  he's  married,  arid  never  in  \\?.<:<  of  a  i;:rc. 


DIBDIN   S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

BALLAD  -  IN   THE  WATERMAN. 

THEN  farewcl  my  trim-built  wherry, 

Oars,  aird  coat,  and  badge  farewef; 
Nt  vcr  niorv:  at  Chelfea  ferry, 

Shall  your  Thomas  take  a  fpell. 
Eat  to  hope  and  peace  a  ftrangcr, 

In  the  battle's  heat  I'll  go, 
Where  expofcd  to  every  danger, 

Some  friendly  ball  may  lay  rne  Is?*: 

Then,  may-  hap,  when  homeward  fleering, 
With  the  news  my  mefTmates  come, 

Even  you,  the  (lory  hearing, 
\Vkh  a  figh  may  cry  poor  Tom  ! 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE    WATERMAN. 


INDEED.  MifR,  fuch  fwecthearts  35  I  an, 

I  fancy  you'll  met  t  with  but  few, 
To  love  you  more  true  I  defy  them, 

I   always  am  thinking  of  you, 
There  are  maidens  would  have  me  in  plenty, 

Nell,  Cicely,  I'rifciila,  and  Sue, 
But  inftead  of  all  thefe  were  there  twenty, 

I  never  i"hi.uld  think  but  of  you. 
Falfe  hearts  all  your  money  may  fquauder, 

And  only  have  pleafure  in  view, 
Ne'er  from  you  a  moment  I'll  wander, 

Unlefs  to  get  money  for  you. 
The  tide,  when  'tis  ebbing.  and  flowing, 

Is  not  to  the  moon  half  fo  true, 
Nor  my  oars  to  their  time  when  I'm  rowing, 

As  ray  heart,  my  fond  heart  is  to  you. 


BALLAD  —  IN    THE    COBLER. 

'TWAS  in  a  village,  near  Caftlebury, 

A  cobler  and  l.i:  wife  did  dwell; 
And  for  a  time  ni>  two  fo  merry, 
Their  hapnincfs  no  tongue  can  tell, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

But  to  this  couple,  the  neighbours  tell  us, 

Something  did  happen  that  cfuis'd  n.uch  ftrife, 

Tor  going  to  a  ndghb'ring  alehoufe, 
The  man  got  drunk  and  beat  his  wife, 

But  though  he  treated  her  fo  vilely, 
What  did  this  wife,  good  creature  do? 

Kept  i'nug,  and  found  a  method  flily 

To  wring  his  heart  quite  through  and  through  : 

For  Dick  the  fapfter  and  his  matter, 

By  the  report  that  then  was  rife, 
Were  both  in  hopes,  by  this  difuik-r, 

To  gain  the  cobler  s  pretty  wife. 

While  things  vent  on  to  rack  and  ruin, 

And  all  their  furniture  was  fold, 
Sjie  feem'd  to  approve  what  each  was  doing, 
And  got  from  each  a  purfe  of  gold. 

So  when  the  cohlcr'g  cares  were  over, 

He  fwore  to  lead  an  alter'd  life, 
To  mind  his  work,  ne'er  be  a  rover, 

And  love  no  o(.htr  than  his  wife. 

BALLAD IN     THK    SKRAGLIO. 


THE  world's  n  ftrruigc  world,  child,  it  muit  be  conftft, 

We  ail  of  diftrefs  have  our  {hare  ; 
But  fir.ce  I  mtift  llniggb  to  live  with  the  reft, 

By  my  troth  'tis  no  great  matter  where. 
We  all  muft  put  up  with  what  fortune  has  fcnf, 

Be  therefore  one'*  lot  poor  or  rich, 
So  there  is  but  a  portion  c/f  cafe  and  content, 

By  my  troth  'tis  no  great  matter  which. 

A  living's  a  living,  and  fo  there's  an  end  ; 

If  one  honeftly  gets  jufl  enow, 
And  fomtthing  to  fparr  for  the  w'ants  of  a  friend, 

By  my  troth  'tis  no  great  matter  how. 
In  this  world  about  nothing  we  Inify'd  appear  ; 

Anu  I've  ftid  it  again  and  again, 
Since  quit  it  one  muft,  if  ones  confcience  be  clear, 

By  my  troth  ;tis  no  great  matter  whea. 


DIEDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

..<>..  .HX..  <&&  -S=J>  <S>  ..<  ...<••<>•<• 
RONDEAU — IN   THE  SERAGLIO. 


Blow  high,  blow  low,  let  tempefts  tear, 

The  main  mart  by  the  board  ; 
My  heart,  with  thoughts  of  thee,  my  dear, 

And  love  well.ftor'd, 
Shall  brave  all  danger,  fcorn  all  fear, 

The  roaring  winds,  the  raging  fea, 
In  hopes  on  fhrrc 
To  be  (nice  more 

Safe  moor'd  with  thee. 
Aloft  wh'Ie  mountains  high  we  go, 

The  whirling  winds  that  feud  along, 
And  the  furge  roaring  from  below, 

Shall  my  fignal  be- 

To  think  on  thee 

And  this  fhall  be  my  fong. 

Blow  high,  blow  low,   iScc. 
And  on  that  night  when  all  the  crew 

The  mem'ry  of  their  firmer  lives, 
O'er  flowing  cans  of  flip  renew. 

And  drink  their  fwetthfarts  and  their  wives, 
I'll  heave  a  figh,  and  think  on  'hec; 
And,  as  the  fhip  rol's  through  the  fea, 
The  burthen  of  my  fong  fliall  be 

Blow  high,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN   THE    SERAGLIO. 


THE  little  birds,  as  well  as  you, 

I've  mark VI  with  anxious  cire. 
How  free  their  pleafnrcs  they  purfue, 

How  void  of  every  care. 
But  birds  of  various  kinds  you'll  meet, 

Some  conllant  n>  their  loves  : 
Are  chatt'ringfiMrrows  half  fo  fweet 

As  ten-ler  cooing  doves  ? 
Birds  have  thdr  pr'x'e,  like  human  kind, 

Some  on  their  notes  prefume, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Scree  on  their  form,  and  lome  you'll  find 

Fond  of  a  gaudy  plume. 
Some  love  a  hi.ndrcd;  fome  you'll  meet 

Still  conftant  to  their  loves; 
Are  chait'ring  fparrows  hali  fo  fwcct 

As  tender,  cooing  doves? 


SONG IN   POOR  VULCAN. 


VENUS  now  no  more  behold  me, 

But  an  humble  vi  lage  <»aiiie, 
Coarfe  and  homely  trappings  fold  me, 

And  Miftrefs  Maudlin  is  my  name. 
Yet  here  no  le(s  is  paid  that  duty 

Ever  due  to  Venus's  worth, 
Not  more  infenfible  of  beauty 

Than  gods  in  heaven,  are  men  on  earth. 


BALLAD — IN  POOR  VULCAN. 

THAT  nature's  every  where  the  fame, 
Each  paflmcv  day  discovers; 
For  that  in  me 
Sooie  charms  they  fee, 
Beho'd  me,  though  a  country  dame, 

Leading  a  crowd  of  lovers. 

My  fporting  fqu're  to  keep  at  bay 

The  courfe  I'll  double  over, 

Whilft  he,  intent 

On  a  wrong  fcent, 

Sh  ill  always  find  me  ftole  away 

When  he  cries  '  Hark  to  cover.' 
"With  new-coin'd  oaths,  my  grenadier 
May  think  to  ftorm  and  blufter, 
And  fwcar  by  Mars, 
My  eyes  are  flar", 
That  light  to  love  =—  hr'!l  f--">n  fi'ul  here 

Such  Ouff  will  ne'er  paH  mutter. 
Thus  will  I  ferve  thofe  I  diftrufl, 
Firil  laugh  dt,  then  refufe  'em; 


DIBDIN'S   SELECTED    SONGS. 

But,  ah  !  not  fo 
My  ihepberd  Joe  ? 
He  like  Adonis  look'd,  when  firft 
I  prefs'd  him  to  my  bofom. 


BALLAD  —  IN   POOR  VULCAN. 


THE  moment  Aurora  pert>'d  into  my  room, 
I  put  on  my  closths,  and  I  call'd  to  my  groom  ; 
And,  my  head  heavy  (till,  from  the  fumes  of  laft  niglif, 
1  ook  a  bumper  of  brandy  to  fet  all  things  right  ; 
And  now  were  well  f'addled  Fleet,  Dapple,  and  Cray, 
Who  feem'd  longing  to  hear  the  glad  found  hark  away. 

Will  WhifHe  by  thii-  had  uncoupled  his  hounds, 
Whofe  extacy  noth.'n./  couid  keep  vithin  bounds; 
Firfl  forward  cr.me  "fowler,  then  Scentweil,  then  Snare, 
Three  better  (launch  harriers  ne'er  flarted  hare; 
Then  Sweetlips,  then  Driver,  then  Staunch,  and  then  Tray, 
All  ready  to  open  at  hark,  hark  away. 

'Twsu  now  by  the  clock  about  five  in  the  morn, 
And  we  all  gallop'd  oif  io  the  found  of  the  horn  j 
Jack  Gater,  Li!!  Ij:tbicr,  and  Dick  at  the  gun, 
And  by  this  t;n;e  the  merry  Tom  Fairp'ay  made  one,. 
Who,  while  we  were  jogging  on  blithfome  and  gay, 
Sung  a  fong,  and  the  chorus  was  —  Hark,  halk  away. 

And  now  Jemmy  Lurcher  had  every  bulh  beat, 
And  no  figr.?  of  madam,  nor  trace  of  her  feet  ; 
Nay,  we  juft  had  began  our  hard  fortunes  to  curfe, 
When  a  1  of  a  fuddtn  out  darts  miftrefs  Ful*  ; 
Men,  horfes,  and  doge  all  the  glad  call  obey, 
And  echo  was  heard  to  cry  —  Hark,  hark  away. 

The  chafe  was  a  fine  one,  flic  took  o'er  the  plain, 
Which  fr.t  doubled,  and  doubled,  and  doubled  again; 
Till  at  lail  (lie  to  cov<  rrcturn'd  out  of  breath, 
Where  1  r.nd  Will  Whiftle  were  in  at  the  death; 
Then  in  triumph  tor  you  I  the  hare  did  difplay, 
And  cry'd,  to  the  horns  my  boys,  hark,  ha^k  awaji 

BALLAD  —  IN  POOR  VULCAN. 


iK  all  ye  gem'mcn  volunteers, 
Of  glory  who  would  ihare, 


SELECTED  SONGS. 

And  leaving  with  your  wives  your  fears, 

To  the  drum  head  repair  ; 
Or  to  the  noble  ferjeant  Pike, 

Come,  come,  without  delay, 

You'll  enter  into  prefent  p<'.)~, 
My  lads  the  bargain  ftrike. 
A  golden  guinea  and  a  crown, 
Betides  the  Lord  knows  what  renown, 

His  majefly  the  donor, 
And  if  you  die, 
Whv  then  you  He 

Stretch'd  on  the  bed  of  honor. 
Does  any  'prentice  work  too  hard, 

Fine  cloaths  would  any  wtar, 
Would  any  one  his  wife  difcard, 

To  the  drum  head  repair. 

Or  to  the,  &c. 
Is  your  eftats  put  out  to  nurfe, 

Are  you  a  cart-off  heir, 
Have  you  no  money  in  your  purfe, 

To  the  drum  head  repair. 
Or  to  the,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN  POOR  VULCAW. 


COME,  every  man  now  give  his  toaft, 

Fill,  up  the  glafs,  I'll  tell  you  mine, 
"Wire  is  the  miftrefs  I  love  moft, 

This  is  my  toaft — now  give  me  thine. 
Well  faid  my  lad,  ne'er  let  it  ftand, 

I  give  myChioc,  nymph  divine, 
My  love  and  wine  go  hand  in  hand  ;— 

This  is  my  toaft — now  give  me  thine. 
Fill  up  your  glaffes  to  the  brink, 

Hebe  let  no  one  dare 'iecline, 
Twas  Hebe  taught  me  firlt  to  drink: — 

1  his  is  my  teafl — now  give  me  thiue» 
Gem'men  1  give  my  wife,  d'ye  fee; 

May  all  to  make  her  bleft  combine> 
So  fl  e  be  far  enough  f.om  me  ; — 

This  is  my  toad,  now  give  me  thiaci 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  so.vcs, 

Let  confbnt  lovers  at  the  feet 

Of  pa!c-fac'd  -.venchcs  figh  and  pine, 
lor  me  the  fir  ft  kind  girl  I  meet 

Shall  be  my  toaft  —  now  give  me  thine, 
You  toaft  your  wife,  and  you  your  !af°, 

My  hoys,  and  welcome;  here's  the  wine, 
For  my  part,  he  who  fills  my  glafs 

Shall  be  my  toaft  —  now  give  me  thine. 
Spirit,  my  lads,  and  toaft  away, 

I  have  ftili  one  witk  yours  to  join  ; 
That  we  may  have  enough  to  pay  : 

This  is  my  toaft  —  now  give  me  thine* 


BALLAD  —  IN  POOR  VULCATT. 


MADAM,  you  know  mv  trade  is  war, 
A«d  \vh:j.t  mould  1  deny  it  fur? 
Whene'er  the  trumpet  founds  from  far, 

I  lo:.-gro  hack  and  hew; 
Yet  i.Vuiun  credit  v/Iiat  I  fay, 
Were  1  this  moment  cal!'d  away, 

•  tlr  i\vn  «ii  array, 
I'd  r..:hcr  '.i*.y  wi  ii  you. 

Did  drun-.»  and  fprightly  trumpets  found, 
D"  '  Death  ain]  L'arnige  ft^ik  aronad. 

Uid  dving  ho'fcs  bite  the  ground, 

Had  we  no  hope  in  view; 
Were  the  whole  army  luf^in  fmoke, 
Were  they  the  1*11  words  that  I  fpokc, 
I'd  fay,  and  dam 'me  it  I,joket 

I'd  rather  flay  with  you. 
Did  the  foe  charge  us  front  and  rear, 
Did  e'en  the  bravtft  face  appear 
Imprefs'd  with  fi»ns  of  mortal  fear, 

ThfcUirh  ne(,-cr  veteran  knew 
So  terrible  and  hot  a  l'<-ht, 
Though  all  my  laureU  it  fhould  blight, 
Though  I  fhould  loofe  fo  fiue  a  fight, 

I'd  rather  ftay  with  you. 


BIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 


DUET. 


JOE. 

WHEN  Serjeant  Belfvvagger,  that  mafculine  brute, 
One  day  had  been  drinking,   to  fwear  a  recruit, 
He  kifs'd  you,  I  faw  him,  or  e!fc  may  I  die, 
And  you  cruel  Maudlin,  ne'er  once  cry'd  O  fie  ! 
Again,  when  the  fquire  had  come  home  from  the  chafe, 
You  receiv'd  him,  O  Gods,  with  a  frnihe  on  your  face, 
Henceforth,  then,  my  fheep  hanim  fkarum  may  run, 
For  Maudlin  is  faithlefs,  and  I  am  undone. 

MAUBI.IK. 

Ah,  Joe!  you're  a  good  one;  one  day  in  my  place— 
My  hufband  at  home  —  I  was  forced  to  fend  Grace  : 
I  know  for  a  truth,  which  you  cannot  gainfay, 
You  touzlcd  her  well  on  a  cock  of  new  hay. 
Nay,  fwore  you'd  be  hers  —  and,  what  is  woife  yet, 
That  you  only  lov'd  me  jnft  for  what  you  cnuld  get; 
As  for  charms  then  I  ne'er  will  believe  1  have  one," 
For  Joey  is  faithlefs,  and  I  am  undone. 

JOE. 

Will  you  know  then  the  truth  on't  ?  I  touz'd  her  1  own, 
Though  I  rather  ny  half  would  have  left  it  alone; 
But  I  did  it  to  fee  if  you  jealous  would  prove, 
For  that,  people  fay,  is  a  fure  llgn  of  love. 

MAUDLIN. 

And  for  me,  if  the  fquire  faid  foft  things  in  my  ear, 
I  iuffer'd  it,  thinking  he'd  call  for  ftrong  beer; 
AIK!  as  to  the  ferjeant,  'tis  always  a  rule, 
One  had  better  be  kifs'd,  than  be  tcaz'd  —  by  a  fool. 


BALLAD  -  IN  THE   QUAKER. 

I  LOCK'D  up  all  my  trcafure, 

I  journied  many  a  mile, 
And  by  my  grief  did  meafure 

Tlie  paiTujg  time  the  wkile. 


12         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

My  bnHnefs  done  and  over, 
I  hafien'd  back  back  amain, 

Like  an  expecting  lover, 
To  view  it  once  again. 

But  this  delight  w.-.s  ftiflcd, 

As  it  began  to  dawn  : 
I  found  the  cafket  rifled, 

And  all  my  treafure  gone. 


SONG — IN   THE   QVAKER. 


WOMFN  are  Will  o'  th'  Wifps  'tis  pVn, 
The  clofer  they  fccn,  ftlil  the  more  they  retire; 
They  teaze  you,  ant'  jade  you, 
And  round  ahout  lead  you, 
Without  hope*  of  fl.elter, 
Ding  dong,  heJter  fkelter, 
Through  water  and  fire; 

And,  when  you  believe  every  danger  and  pain 

From  your  heart  you  may  banifh, 
And  you're  near  the  poflVffion  of  what  you  f'cfircj 

That  inftant  they  vanidi, 
And  the  devil  a  bit  can  you  catch  them  again. 

By  fome  they're  not  badly  compared  to  fhe  fei, 
Which  is  ca'm  and  tempeftuous  within  the  fame  hour, 

So  "e  fay  they  arc  Sirens,  but,  take  it  from  me, 
They're  a  fweet  race  of  angels  o'er  man  that  h;'.*  pow'r, 

His  perfon,  his  heart,  nay  (fis  icafon  to  tVi/c, 

And  kad  the  poor  devil  wherever  they  pleafe. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  QUAKER.. 


A  Kernel  from  an  angle's  core 
One  day  on  either  cheek  I  wore, 
J.nhin  was  plac'ci  (.11  inv  r'ghl  cheek, 
That  on  my  l«ft  did  liydge  beiptak- 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

Hodge  in  an  inftant  clropt  to  ground, 
Sure  token  that  his  love's  unbound, 
But  Lubin  nothing  could  remove, 
Sure  token  his  is  conftant  love. 
Lift  May  I  fought  to  find  n  fna.il, 
That  might  my  lover's  n^me  revea?, 
Which  finding,  home  I  quickJy  fped 
And  on  the  hearth  the  embers  fpread; 
When,  if  my  letters  I  can  tc", 
I  fa\v  it  mark  a  curious  L  : 
O  may  this  omen  iucky  prove, 
For  L's  for  Lubin  and  for  love. 


RONDEAU  —  IN   THE    QUAKER. 


WHILE  the  lads  of  the  village  (hall  merrily  ah, 

Sound  their  tabors,  I'll  hand  thcc  alon^, 
And  I  fay  unto  flue,  that  merrily  ah, 

']  hou  and  I  will  be  firft  in  the  throng. 
Jurt  then,  when  the  youth  who  lafl  rear  won  the  dow'r, 

And  hic  mate  fliall  the  fports  have  begun, 
\Vhen  the  <jay  voice  of  gla<  ncfs.rcfounds  from  each  bow'r, 

And  then  long'ft  in  thy  heart  to  make  one, 

V/hile  the  hid?,  &c. 
Tho'e  joys  that  are  hai  ii'lcfs  what  mortal  can  b'amc  ? 

'Tis  my  it  axim  that  youth  fnould  be  free; 
And  to  prove  that  my  words  and  my  deeds  arc  the  fame, 

Believe  thou  fha't  preftntly  fee, 
While  the  IHU  •.,  &ic. 


BALLAD  —  IN  ROSE  AND  COLIN. 


I  loft  my  poor  mother 
When  only  a  child, 

And  I  fear'd  fuch  another, 
So  gentle  and  mil'', 

Was  not  to  be  found  -. 
B 


14         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

But  I  faw  my  miftake, 
1'or  fcarce  was  flie  gone, 

But  I  prftv'd  I  had  mother  and  father  in  one  : 
And  though  at  this  minute  he  makes  iry  heart  ack, 
There's  not  i'uch  another  fearch  all  the  world  round. 

I'd  reach 'd  my  teens  fairly, 

As  blithe  as  a  bee, 
His  care,  late  and  early, 
Being  all  to  pleife  me  : 
No  one  thing  above  ground 
Was  too  good  for  his  Rofe  j 
At  wake,  or  at  fair, 

I  was  dreft  out  fo  gaily,  lord,  people  would  ftare, 
And  I  fay  it  again,  though  he's  pcevtfh,  God  knows, 
There's  net  fuch  another,  fearch  all  the  world  round, 

But  love,  who,  they  tell  us, 

Dots  many  Orange  tilings, 

Makes  a.11  the  world  jealous, 

And  mad — even  kings 
They  fay  he  can  wound. 
This  love  is  the  fore  : — 
tJincc  Uolin  came  here, 
This  father  fo  kind  is  a  father  fevcrc  ; 
Yet  ftill  will  I  lay,  though  he  fcolds  more  and  rrmre, 
There's  not  fuch  another,  fearch  all  the  world  round. 

BALLAD — IN   ROSE   AND   COLIN. 

HERE's  :\11  her  geer,  her  wheel,  her  work  ; 

Thefe  little  bobbins  to  and  fro, 
How  oft  I've  fteu  her  fingers  jerk, 

tl-.r  pretty  lingers,  white  as  Inow. 
fa  -:h  object  to  me  is  fo  clear, 

My  heart  at  fight  on't  throbbings  goes; 
'Twas  he-re  fhe  fat  her  down,  and   here 

she  told  me  fhe  was  Colin's  Rofe, 

This  poefy  for  her  when  fhe's  drefs'd, 

I've  brought,  alas!   how  happy  I, 
CouK!  I  be, 'like  thefc  flowers,  carcfs'd, 

And,  like  them,  on  her  btiom  die. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          15 

The  violet  and  pink  [  t •-.  >!:, 

And  every  pretty  flower  that  blows; 
The  role  too,  hut  Low  mean  twill  look 

When  by  the  fide  of  my  uvtet  Rofe. 


BALLAD — IN  ROSE  AND 


There  \ras  a  jolly  fhepherd  lad, 

.And  Colin  was  his  name, 
And  ?11  unknown  to  her  old  dad, 

He  fometimes  to  fee  Peggy  came — 

The  object  of  his  flame. 
©nc  day  of  his  abfence  too  fecure. 

Her  f.ither  thauder'd  at  the  door, 
When,  fearing  of  his  frown. 

Says  fne,  '  dear  love  the  chimney  climb  ;' 

'  1  can't,'  cries  he,  '  there  is  not  time 
'  Belides,  I  fhould  tumble  down.' 

What  could  they  do,  ta'en  unawares  ? 

They  thought,  and  thought  again; 
In  clofets  underneath  the  flairs 

To  hide  himfeif  'twere  all  in  vain, 

He'd  foon  be  found,  'twere  plain  : 
'  Get  up  the  chimney,  love  yo  muft,' 
Cry'd  flie,  '  or  elfe  the  door  he'll  burfr, 

'  I  would  not  for  a  erown  ;' 
Young  Colin  feeing  but  this  fhifr, 
E'en  mounted  uo — Ptg  lent  a  lift, 

And  cry'd,  '  don't  tumble  down.' 

With  throbbing  heart,  now  to  the  door, 

Poor  Peggy  runs  in  hafle  ; 
Tliinking  to  trick  her  father  fure; 

But  hade,  the  proverb  fays,  makes  wafte, 

Which  proverb's  here  well  plac'd. 
Her  father  fcolded  her  his  heft, 
Call'd  names,  and  faid,  among  the  rcfl, 

'  Pray  have  you  feen  that  clown  ?' 
She  fcarce  had  time  to  anfwer  no, 
When  all  over  black  as  a  crow, 

Poor  Colin  tumbled  down. 


16         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 


BALLAD  -  IN    ROSE   AND   COLIN. 

EXCUSE  me,  pray  ye  do,  dear  neighbour, 

But  P.ofc,  y  'ti  know,  and  I 
Have  oft  partook  one  fbort  or  labour, 

While  you  hive  pleas'rl  flood  by. 
And  fince  from  little  children  playing 

You've  kindly  called  me  fon, 
I  thought  to  Rofe  I  might  be  faying 

'  Good  day,'  and  no  harm  done. 
When  you  and  father  gravely  counted, 

One  morning  in  the  barn, 
To  how  much  in  a  day  it  mounted 

That  both  of  us  could  earn, 
Since  then  you  down  the  law  were  laying, 

And  calling  me  your  fon, 
I  thought  to  Rofe  I  might  be  faying 

'  Good  day,'  and  no  harm  done. 

BALLAD  -  IN    ANNETTE    AND    L17B1N, 

YOUNG,  and  void  of  art  or  guile, 

From  ill  intention  free, 
If  love  I've  cherifh'd  all  this  while, 

It  came  in  fptght  of  me. 
When  you've  to  me.  and  I've  to  you, 

Try'd  who  could  'kindcft  prove, 
If  that  was  love  —  what  then  to  do 

To  fly  from  this  fame  love  ? 
When  abfent  from  you  I  have  monrn'd, 

And  thought  each  hour  a  fcore  ; 
When  on  a  fuddcn  you  returned, 

I've  thrill'd  with  jcy  all  o'er  ; 
They  fay  'twas  love  —  I  thought  'twas  you 

H.i  1  made  my  heart  thus  move  ; 
Ala*  what  can  a  poor  girl  do, 

To  fly  from  this  fame  love  ? 
To  ei'eiy  thing  that  you  can  r.fk, 

What  iliould  I  fay  but  yes  ? 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          17 

If  is  becaufe  I  like  the  taflc, 

I  freely  grant  each  kifs. 
You're  all  to  me — I'm  all  to  you — 

This  truth  our  deaths  would  prove, 
Were  we  to  part  : — What  then  to  do 

To  fly  from  this  fame  love  ? 

DUET IN   ANNETTE   AND   LUEIX. 


BAILIFF. 

THEY  tell  me  you  liften  to  all  that  he  fays  ; 
That  each  hour  of  the  clay  you  are  full  of  his  praife  ; 
That  you  always  together  your  flocks  lead  to  graze  : 
Is  this  true  damiel  ? 

ANNETTE, 

Yes,  Mifter  Bailly. 

BAILIFF. 

They  tell  me  alfo  you  are  fo  void  of  grace 
As  to  brag  that  dear  form,  and  that  dear  pretty  face, 
That  young  dog  fliall  be  welcome  to  kifs  and  embrace  : 
Is  this  true  damfcl  ? 

ANXETTE, 

Yes,  Mifter  Bailly^ 

BAILIFF. 

The  neighbours  all  fay,  though  I  credit  them  not, 
They  have  heard  you  declare  that,  content  with  your  lot. 
Any  king  you'd  refufe  for  that  lout  and  a  cot : 
Is  this  true  damfcl  ? 

ANNETTE. 

Yes,  Mifter  Bailly. 

BAILIFF. 

But  one  thing  T  vow  frights  me  out  of  my  life, 
'Tis  allow'd  on  all  hands,  that  is,  barring  the  ftrife, 
That  you  both  live  together  juft  like  man  and  wife  : 
Is  this  true  damfcl  ? 

ANNETTE, 

Ye?,   Mifter  Bailly. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

..«>..  ..«>..  rSgxgg)  <Ji2>  „.,>.....<>.. 

DUET IN    ANNETTE    AND    LUBIN. 


LUBIN. 

'Tis  true  that  oft,  in  the  fame  mead, 
We  both  have  led  our  flocks  to  feed, 
"Where  by  each  other's  fide  we've  fat; 

ANNETTE. 
Alas  !  there  was  no  harm  in  that, 

LUBIN. 

'Tis  true  for  thee  this  cot  I  rofe, 
Where  thou  tak'ft  pleafure  to  repofe  • 
For  which  I  found  the  greeneft  plat  : 

ANNETTE. 

Alas  !  there  was  no  harm  in  that. 

LUBINT. 

'Tis  true  when  tired  thou  fain  would'ft  reft, 
And  thy  dear  lips  to  mine  I've  prefs'd, 
Thy  breath,  fo  fweet  !  I've  wonder'd  at  : 

ANNETTF. 
Alas  !  there  was  no  harm  in  that. 

LUBIN. 

Ah,  but  'tis  true,  when  thou  haft  flept, 
Clofer  and  clofer  have  I  crept  ; 
And  while  my  heart  went  pit-a-pat  — 

ANNETTE. 
Alas  !  there  was  no  harm  in  that. 


BALLAD  -  IN    ANNETTE    AND    LUBIN. 

A   PLAGUE  take  all  fuch  grumbling  elves, 

If  they  will  tail,  fo  be  it  ; 
Beeaufe  we're  hap-Mer  than  thcinftlves, 

They  can't  endure  to  fee  it. 
For  me,  I  never  fhall  repine, 

Let  whate'er  fate  o'ertakeus; 
For  love  and  Annette  fliall  be  mine, 

Though  all  the  wcrld  forfake  us. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Then,  dear  Annette,  regard  them  not, 

The  hours  fliall  pafs  on  gaily, 
In  fpite  of  every  fnare  and  plot 

Of  that  old  doating  Dailly. 

No,  never,  Annette,  thou'lt  repine, 

Let  whate'er  fate  o'ertake  us ; 
For  love  and  Lubin  fliall  be  thine, 

Though  all  the  world  forfake  us. 


BALLAD IN    ANNETTE    AND    LUBIN. 


MY  Lord,  and  pleafe  you,  he  and  I, 

Morn,  noon,  and  night,  in  every  weather, 
From  little  children,  not  this  high, 

In  the  fame  cottage  liv'd  together. 
Our  parents  left  me  to  his  care, 

Saying,  let  no  one  put  upon  her  : 
'  No,  that  1  won't,"  fays  lie,  '  1  fwear;' 

And  he  ne'er  lies,  and  like  your  honour. 
As  I  was  faying,  we  grew  up, 

For  all  the  world  fift?r  and  .brother, 
One  never  had  nor  bit'  *or  fup, 

Uiilefs  it  was  partook  by  t'other: 
And  I  am  fure,  inftcad  cf  me, 

Were  it  a  ducheii.,  he  had  won  her; 
He  is  fo  good,  and  I've,  d'ye  fee, 

A  tender  heart,  ank  like  your  honour, 
But,  woe  is  ours,  now  comes  the  worfl, 

To-day  our  forrows  are  beginning, 
Whqt  I  t'hought  love  —  oh,  I  fhali  burft  — 

That  nafty  Bailly  fays  was  finning. 
With  Lutiin,  who,  of  all  the  blifs 

I  ever  tafled  is  the  donor, 
I  took  delight  to  toy  and  kifs, 

Till  I'm  with  child,  and  like  your  honour. 


BALLAD  -  IN  THE   CHELSEA    PENSIONED. 


DP  OTHER  foldiers  why  caft  down  ? 
Never,  boys,  be  melancholy  : 


2o         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

You  fay  our  lives  are  not  our  own, 
But  therefore  fliould  we  not  be  jolly  ? 

7        This  poor  tenement,  at  beft, 

Depends  on  fickle  chance  .  mean  while, 
Drink,  laugh,  and  fing  ;  and,  for  the  reft, 

We'll  boldly  brave  each  rude  campaign  ; 

Secure,  if  we  return  again, 

Our  pretty  landlady  fliall  fmile. 
Fortune  his   life  and  yours  commands, 

And  this  moment,  fliould  it  pleafe  her 
To  require  it  at  your  hands, 

You  can  but  die,  and  fo  did  Casfar. 
Our  fpan,  though  long,  were  little  worth, 

Difi  we  not  time  with  joy  beguile  : 
Laugh  then  the  -while  you  flay  on  earth, 

And  boldly  brave,  &c. 

Life's  a  debt  we  all  muft  pay, 

'Tis  fo  much  pleafure,  which  we  borrow, 
Nor  need,  if  on  a  diflant  day 

It  is  demanded,  or  to-morrow. 
The  bottle  fays  we're  tardy  grown, 

Do  not  the  time  arid  liquor  fpoil, 
Laugh  out  the  little  life  <Ai  own, 

And  boldly  brave.,  &c". 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE    CHELSEA  PENSIONED 


SING  the  loves  of  John  and  Jean, 

Sing  the  loves  of  Jean  and  John ; 
John,  for  her,  would  leave  a  queen, 
Jean,  for  him,  the  nobleltdon. 
She's  his  queen, 

He's  her  don  ; 
John  loves  Jean, 

And  Jean  loves  John. 
Whate'cr  rejoices  happy  Jean, 

Is  fure  to  burfl  the  fides  of  John, 
Does  flie,  for  grief,  look  thin  and  lea», 
He  initantly  is  pale  and  waa  : 
Thin  and  lean, 
Pale  and  wan, 
John  loves  Jean. 
And  Jean  loves  Jehu- 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS.  21 

Twas  the  lily  hand  of  Jean 

Fill'd  the  glafs  of  happy  John  ; 
And,  heavens  !  how  joyful  was  flie  feen 
When  lie  was  for  a  licenfc  gone  ! 
Joyful  feen, 

They'll  dance  anon, 
For  John  weds  Jean, 

And  Jean  weds  John. 
John  has  ta'en  to  wife  his  Jean, 
Jean's  become  the  fpoufe  of  Joho, 
She  no  longer  is  his  queen, 
He  no  longer  is  her  don- 
No  more  queen, 
No  more  don  ; 

John  hates  Jean, 

And  Jean  hates  John. 

Whatever  'tis  that  pleafes  Jean, 

Is  certain  now  to  difpleafe  John; 
With  fcolding  they're  grown  thin  and  lean, 
With  fpleen  and  fpite  they're  pale  and  wan, 

Thin  and  lean, 
Pale  and  wan, 

John  1'ates  Jean, 
And  Jean  hates  John, 
John  prays  heaven  to  take  his  Jean, 

Jean  at  the  devil  wifhes  John; 
He'll  dancing  on  her  grave  be  feen, 

fche'll  laugh  when  lie  is  dead  and  gone. 
They'll  gay  be  feen, 

Dead  and  gone. 
For  John  hates  Jean, 
And  Jane  hates  John. 

BALLAD IN   THE    CHELSEA   PENSIONER. 

WHEN.thou  flialt  fee  his  bofom  {welling, 
When  foft  companion's  tear  ihall  ftart, 

As  my  poor  father's  woes  thou'rt  telling, 
Come  hack  and  claim  my  hand  and  heart. 

The  caufe  bleft  eloquence  will  lend  thee; 

Nay,  hafte,  and  eafe  my  foul's  diflrefs; 
To  judge  thy  worth,  1'il  here  attend  thee, 

And  rate  thy  love  by  thy  lucecfs. 


22  DIBDIN  S   SELECTED    SONGS. 

..</>.••<>•  <~*>^~><s$»*.<  >••••••<>•• 

BALLAD IN    THE     CHELSEA    !PENSION£R. 


'TWAS  not  her  eyes,  though  orient  mines 

Can  boaft  no  gem  fo  bright  that  glows; 
Her  lips,  where  the  deep  ruby  lliineri, 

Her  cheeks,  that  fhame  the  blufliing  roi'e, 
Nor  yet  her  form,  Minerva'?  mien. 

Her  bofoin,  white  as  Venus'  dove, 
That  made  her  my  affection's  queen, 

But  'twas  alone  her  filial  love. 
The  ruby  lip,  the  brilliant  eye, 

The  rofy  cheek,  the  graceful  form, 
In  turn  for  commendation  vie, 

And  juftly  the  fir'd  lover  charm  : 
But  tranfient  thefe — the  charm  for  life, 

Which  rcafon  ne'er  fliall  difapprove, 
Which  truly  fliall  enfure  a  wife, 

Faithful  and  kind,  is  filial  love. 

SONG IN   THE  CHELSEA  PENS10NSR. 


LET  your  courage  boy  be  true  t'ye, 
Hard  and  painful  is  the  foldier's  duty; 
"Fis  not  alone  to  bravely  dare, 
To  fear  a  ftrangei, 
Each  threat'ning  danger, 
That  whi files  through  the  dufky  air; 
Where  thund'ring  jar 
Conflicting  arms, 
All  the  alarms, 

And  dreadful  havock  of  the  war. 
Your  duty  done,  and  home  returning, 
With  felf-commcnded  ardour  burning, 
If  this  right  pride 
Fees  fhould  deride, 
And  from  your  merit  turn  afide, 
Though  than  the  war  the  conflicTs  more  feverc, 
This  is  the  trial  you  muft  learn  to  bear. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 


BALLAD  —  IN   THE   FRIENDLY  TARS. 

WHILE  up  'he  fhrouds  tke  failor  goes, 

Or  ventures  on  the  yard, 
The  landf'man,  who  no  better  knows, 

Believe?  his  lot  is  hard. 
But  Jack  with  fmiles  each  danger  meets, 

Carts  anchor,  heaves  the  log, 
Trims  all  the  fails,  belays  tke  flieets, 
.   And  drinks  hi*  can  of  grog, 
When  mountians  high  tlie  waves  that  fwell 

The  veffel  rudely  bear, 
Now  finking  in  the  hollow  del!, 

Now  quiv'ring  in  ttie  air. 
Bold  Jack,  &c. 

When  waves  'gainft  rocks  and  quickfands  roar 

You  ne'er  hear  him  repine, 
Freezing  near  Greenland's  icy  fliore, 

Or  burning  near  the  line. 

Bold  Jack,  &c. 
If  to  engage  they  give  the  word, 

To  quarters  all  repair, 
While  fplinter'd  mafts  go  by  the  board, 

And  fhot  ring  through  the  air, 
Bold  Jack,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE   FRIENDLY  TAR.S. 


I  SAII.'D  in  the  good  fhip  the  Kitty, 

With  a  fmart  blowing  gale  and  rough  fea, 
Left  my  Polly,  the  lads  tall  fo  pretty, 

Siife  Lcre  at  an  anchor,  Yo  Yea. 
She  blubber's  fait  tears  when  we  parted, 

And  cry'd  now  be  conttant  to  me ; 
1  tol  1  her  not  to  be  down  hearted, 

60  up  went  the  anchor,  Yo  Yea. 
And  from  that  time    no  worfe  nor  no  better, 

I've  thought  on  juft  nothing  but  (lie  ; 
Nor  could  grog  nor  flip  make  me  forget  her, 

She's  my  belt  b«wer  anchor,  Yo  Yea. 


24         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

When  the  wind  whittled  larboard  and  (larboard, 

And  the  ftorm  came  on  weather  and  lee, 
The  hope  I  with  her  fhould  be  harbour  'd 

\Vas  my  cable  and  anchor,  Yo  Yea. 
And  yet,  my  boys,  would  you  believe  me, 

I  returned  with  no  rhino  from  fea, 
Miftrefs  Polly  would  never  receive  me, 

So  again  I  heav'd  anchor,  Yo  Yea. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  FRIENDLY  TARS. 

IF  'tis  love  to  wifli  you  near, 

To  tremble  when  the  wind  I  hear, 

Becaufe  at  fea  you  floating  rove  : 

If  of  you  to  dream  at  night, 

To  languifh  when  you're  out  of  fight, 

If  this  be  leaving  —  then  I  love. 

If,  when  you're  gone,  to  count  each  hour, 

To  afk  of  every  tender  power 

That  you  may  kind  and  faithful  prove; 

If  void  of  faifliood  and  deceit, 

I  feel  a  pleafure  now  we  meet, 

If  this  be  loving  —  then  I  love. 

To  wifh  your  fortune  to  partake, 

Determin'd  never  to  forfake, 

Though  low  in  poverty  we  (trove  ; 

If,  fo  that  me  your  wife  you'd  call, 

I  offer  you  my  little  ail  ; 

If  this  be  loving  —  then  I  love. 


BALDAD  —  IN    THE    FRIENDLY    TARS. 


Yet  though  I've  BO  fortune  to  offer, 
I've  fomething  to  put  on  a  par  ; 

Come  then,  and  accept  of  my  proffer, 
'Tis  the  kind  honeft  heart  of  a  tar. 

Ne'er  let  fuch  a  trifle  as  thi>  is, 
Girls,  be  to  my  pleafure  a  bar, 

You'll  be  rich,  though  'tis  only  in  kifies, 
With  the  kind  honeft  heart  of  a  tar. 


25 

Bclides,  I  am  none  of  your  ninnies  ; 

The  next  time  1  conic  from  afar 
I'll  give  you  your  lao  full  of  guineas, 

With  the  kind,  honeft  heart  of  a  tar. 
Your  lords,  with  fuel)  fine  baby  faces, 

That  ftrut  in  a  garter  and  ftar, 
Have  they,  under  their  tambour  and  laces, 

The  kind,  honeft  heart  of  a  lar. 
I've  this  here  to  fay,  now,  and  mind  it, 

If  love,  that  no  hazard  can  mar, 
You  are  feeking,  you'll  certainly  find  it 

In  the  kind  honed  heart  of  a  tar. 

BALLAD IN     THE    OLD    WOMAN     OF    EIGHTY. 


Come  here  ye  rich,  come  here  ye  great, 

Come  here  ye  grave,  come  here  ye  gay, 
Behold  our  bleft,  though  humble  fate. 

Who,  while  the  fun  fhines,  make  our  hay. 
The  gay  plum'd  lady,  with  her  fhte, 

Would  flic  in  courts  a  moment  ftay. 
Could  flie  but  guefs  our  happy  fate, 

Who,  while  the  inn  Ihines,  make  our  hay. 
N^fure  we  love,  and  art  we  hate, 

And,  blithe  and  cheerful  as  the  day, 
We  ung,  and  bk-fs  our  humble  fate, 

And,  while  the  fun  fhines,  make  our  hay. 
H(/dfre  goe«  a  courting  to  his  mate, 

Who  ne'er  coquets,  nor  fsys  hin>  nay, 
But  fliares  content,  an  humble  fate, 

And,  while  the  fun  ihincs,  they  make  hay. 
The  captain  puts  on  board  his  freight, 

And  cuts  through  waves  his  dangerous  way, 
But  we  enjoy  a  gentler  fate, 

And,  while  the  fun  Ihines,  make  our  hay. 
See  Hodge,  and  Dick,  and  Nell,  and  Kate, 

In  the  green  meadow  fnfk  and  play, 
And  own  that  happy  is  our  fate, 

Who,  whi>e  the  fun  fiiints,  make  our  hay. 
Came  then,  and  quit  each  gliit'ring  bait, 

Simplicity  lhail  point  the  way 
C 


2.6         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

To  u«,  who  blefs  our  humble  i^.te, 

And,  while  the  fun  Chines,  make  our  hay. 

BALLAD  -  IN  THE  OLD   WOMAN    OF  EIGHTY. 


HOW  kind  and  how  good  of  his  dear  majt-flvi 

In  the  midfl  of  his  matters  fo  weight  v, 
To  think  of   fo  lowly  a  creature  as  me, 

A  poor  old  woman  of  eighty. 
Were  your  fparks  to  come  round  me,  in  love  with  each  charm  , 

Says  I,  I  have  nothing  to  fay  t'ye  ; 
I  can  get  a  young  fellow  to  keep  my  back  warm, 

Though  a  poor  old  woman  of  eighty. 
John  Strong  is  as  comely  a  lad  as  you'll  fee, 

And  one  that  will  never  fay  n.iy  t'ye; 
I  cannot  but  think  what  a  comfort  he'll  be 

To  me,  an  old  woman  of  eighty. 
Then  fear  not,  ye  fair  ones,  though  long  part  your  youth, 

You'll  have  lovers  in  fcores  beg  and  pray  t'ye, 
Only  think  of  my  fortune,  who  have  but  one  tooth, 

A  poor  old  woman  of  eighty. 


BALLAD  -  IN     THE    TOUCHSTONE. 


PARENTS  may  fairly  thank  thnnfelves, 

Should  love  our  duty  maP.cr, 
Checking  his  power,  the  fenfelcfs  elves 

But  tie  the  knot  the  fatter. 
To  tri'.k  fuch  dotard-,  weak  and  vjunj 

I-  d'.tv  ,uul  ,ilh-:-i.»r,rc, 
\Vl.Hft  lovr,  and  ali  his  plcafing  train, 

To  fly  vsie  diibbtdience. 
At  fi-klc  fancy,  or  caprice, 

Or  headlong "whitp,  advift/:, 
Children,  am!  all  ith   '.   I  ^,i.x  !A-ace, 

IfL-c-  TPI  t!i"  I'a^riiicc-  : 
Then  trii-k  t'utfc  d.-'-.r:'.-.  v/.-ik  .UK",  v   ii 
Ti:;  tlnty  in  !  ;vi'.  '.n.-.nce  ; 

.     '  ".'IK 

.  •  cm  . 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.        27 

•••(••«x....«^;£><S><§g>>— *«  — <••• 
SONG IN     THE    TOUCHSTONE. 


THIS  life  is  like  a  troubled  lea, 
Where,  helm  a-weather  or  a-lee, 
The  fhip  will  neither  (lay  nor  wear, 
Eut  drives,  of  every  rock  in  fear  ; 
AllfeamanChip  in  vain  we  try, 
We  cannot  keep  her  fhadily, 
But,  juft  as  fortune's  wind  may  blow, 
The  vclTel's  tofticated  to  and  Vro  ; 
Yet,  come  but  love  on  board, 
Our  hearts  with  pleafure  flor'd, 
No  I  term  can  overwhelm, 

Stiil  blows  in  vaia 

Tht  hurricane, 
While  he  is  at  the  helm. 


BALLAD — IN    THE   TOUCHSTONE. 


MY  name's  Ted  Blarney,  I'll  be  bound, 
And  man  and  boy,   upon  this  ground, 
1'ull  twenty  years  I've  beat  my  round, 

Crying  Vauxhall  watch: 
And  as  that  time's  a  litt'c  fliort, 
With  fomefmall  folks  that  here  rcforr, 
To  be  fure  I  have  not  had  fomc  fnoi  t, 

Crying  Vauxhall. watch. 
Oh  of  pretty  wenches  ilrefl  fo  tight, 
And  macaronics  what  a  light, 
Of  a  moonlight  marn  I've  bid  good  night, 

Crying  Vauxhall  watch. 
The  lover  cries  no  foul  will  fee, 
You  are  deceived  my  love,  cries  {he, 
Dare's  that  irilh  taef  there — meaning  me- 

Crying  Vauxhall  watch. 
Sr>  tiiey  goes  on  with  their  amorous  talk, 
Till  they  gently  deals  to  the  dark  walk, 
While  1  fteps  afide,  no  fport  to  balk, 

Crying  Vauxhall  watch, 

Oh  of  pretty  wenches,  &c. 


DIEDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

BALLAD  —  IN  THE  WIVES'  REVENGE. 

CURTIS  was  old  Hodgt's  wife, 
1'or  virtue  none  was  ever  Inch, 
She  led  fo  pure,  ib  Jjaite  a  life, 
Hodge  faid  'twas  vartue  ov<;r  much  : 
Fur  lays  fly  old  Hodge,  fays  he, 
Great  talkers  do  the  leaft  d'ye  fee. 

Curtis  faid  if  men  were  rude 
She'd  Irratch  their  eyes  out,  tear  their  hair  ; 
Cry'd  Hodge,   I  believe  thou'rt  wond'rous  good, 
However,  'et  us  nothing  fwear. 

For  fays,  &c. 

One  night  fhe  dreamt  a  drunken  fool 
Be  rude  with  her  in  fpight  would  fain  ; 
She  makes  no  more,  but,  with  joint  ftool, 
Falls  on  her  hufband  might  and  main. 

Still  fays,  &c. 

By  that  time  fhe  had  broke  his  nofe, 
Hodge  made  fliif:  to  wake  his  wife  ; 
Dear  Hodge,  faid  fhe,  judge  by  thefe  blows, 
1  prize  my  vartue  as  my  life. 

Still  fajs,  &c. 

I  dreamt  a  rude  man  on  me  fell  ; 
However  I  his  projeA  rnarr'd  .- 
Dear  wife,  cried  Hodge,  'tis  mighty  we!!, 
But  next  time  don't  hit  quite  ib  hard. 

For  fays,  &c. 

At  break  of  day  Hodge  crofs'd  a  flile, 
Nt'-.r  to  a  tield  of  new-mown  hay, 
And  law,  and  curft  his  ftars  the  while, 
Curtis  and  Mumps  in  am'rousplay- 
V.'.tr'iu  I  right,  lays  Hod»c,  fays  he, 
Great  talkers  do  the  leal*  d'ye  fee. 


GLEE  —  IN  THE  WIVES'  REVENGE. 

YOUNG  Paris  was  bleft  juft  as  I  am  this  hour, 
When  proud  Juno  cffcr'd  him  riches  and  power, 
\Vhen  Itately  Minerva  of  war  talk'd  and  arms, 
When  Venus  beam'd  on  him  a  fmile  full  of  charms. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         29 

Venus'  charms  gain'd  the  prize,  what  an  idiot  was  he  ! 
The  apple  of  gold  I'd  have  parted  in  three  ; 
And,  contenting  them  all  by  this  witty  device, 
Given  juno,  and  Pallas,  and  Venus  a  flice. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  SHEPHERDESS  OF  THE  ALPS, 


WHEN  jealous  out  of  feafon, 

"When  deaf  and  blind  to  reafon, 
Of  truth  we've  no  belief; 

With  rage  we're  overflowing, 

Nor  why,  nor  wherefore  knowing, 
And  the  heart  goes  throb  with  griei'. 

But  when  the  fit  is  over, 

And  kindncfs  from  the  lover 
Does  every  doubt  deftroy, 

Away  fly  thoughts  alarming, 

Each  obieiTl  appears  charming, 
And  the  heart  goes  throb  with  joy. 

BALLAD — IN    THE  SHEPHERDESS    OF  THE    ALP*. 


BY  love  and  fortune  guided, 

I  quit  the  bufy  town  ; 
With  cot  and  fneep  provided, 

And  veftments  of  a  clown, 
Thus  have  I  barter 'd  riches 

For  a  fhepherd's  little  ftock  ; 
A  crook  to  leap  o'er  ditches, 

And  well  to  climb  each  rock: 
A  faithful  dog,  my  fteps  to  guide, 

A  fcri[i  and  hautboy  by  my  fide, 
And  my  horn,  to  give  the  alarm, 
When  wolves  would  harm 

My  flock. 
Ah,  fay  then,  who  can  blame  me? 

For  beauty  'tis  I  roam  ; 
But,  if  the  chafe  fhould  tame  me, 

Perhaps  I  may  come  home, 

Till  then  I'll  give  up  riches,  &c. 
C  a 


JO             DIBDIN  S  SELECTED    SONGS. 
BALLAD IN   THE    SHEPHERDESS  OF   THE  ALPS. 


THE  rifing  fun  Lyfandcr  found, 

Shedding  tears  o'er  Phillis'  tomb, 
Who  fwore  he  ne'er  would  leave  the  ground, 

But  pafs  his  life  in  that  dear  gluom. 
Tearing  his  hair,  the  frantic  youth 

Cry'd,  food  and  raiment  I  deny; 
And  with  my  life  fliall  end  my  truth, 

For  love  of  Phillis  will  I  die. 
The  radient  god  made  half  his  tour, 

The  kine  fought  fhelter  from  his  heat, 
Which  pafs'd  within  the  cottage  door, 

Where  poor  Lyfander  drank  and  eat. 
His  dinner  iinifh'd,  up  he  rofe, 

Stalk'd,  fighing,  Glently  and  How, 
To  where  were  hung  his  Sunday's  clothes, 

Then  took  a  walk  to  chafe  his  woe. 

The  fun  to  Thetis  made  his  way, 

When,  underneath  a  friendly  fhade, 
A  (hep  herd  fung  in  accents  gay, 

His  paffion  for  a  gentle  maid. 
O  lovers,  what  are  all  your  cares  ! 

Your  lighs!  your  fufferings!  tell  me  what  ! 
To  Daplme  'tis  Lyfander  fwears, 

And  lovely  Phillis  is  forgot. 


SONG  -  IN   THE  TOUCHSTONE. 


MY  tears — alas  !  I  cannot  fpeak! 

Muft  thank  this  (roodnefs,  fure,  divine! 
For  had  I  words — woHs  are  too  weak, 

Too  pour  to  vent  fucli  thoughts  as  mine. 
1  he  fun,  in  its  meridian  heigh*, 

Will  gratitude  like  this  infpire  ; 
Whofe  kindly  heat  and  piercing  light, 

We  wonder  at,  and  we  admire. 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONCS.  J 

„<>-...<>•••  <S><S><S>H>..>...X~ 
BALLAD — IN  THE  SHEPHERDESS  OF   THE   ALPS. 


THE  coy  Paftora  Damon  woo'd, 

Damon  the  witty  and  the  gay; 
Damon,  who  never  fair  purfu'd 

But  fhe  became  an  eafy  prey. 
Yet,  with  this  nymph,  his  ev'ry  power 

In  vain  he  tries,  no  language  moves; 
Thus  do  we  fee  the  tender  flower 

Shrink  from  the  fun  whofe  warmth  it  loves. 
Piqued  at  the  little  angry  pufs, 

Cry'd  he,  flie  fets  me  all  on  fire! 
Then  plagues  herfelf,  and  makes  this  fufs, 

Only  to  raife  her  value  higher. 
For,  that  flie  loves  me  every  hour, 

Each  moment  fome  new  inftance  proves : 
Thus  do  we  fee  the  tender  flower 

Shrink  from  the  fun,  whofe  warmth  it  loves. 
How  to  refolve  then  ?  what  refourct  ? 

By  fair  means  flic  will  near  come  to  ; 
What  of  a  little  gentle  force  ? 

Suppofe  I  try  what  that  will  do  ? 
I  know  fhe'll  tears  in  torrents  pour; 

I  know  her  cries  will  pierce  the  groves  : 
Thus  do  we  fee  the  tender  flower 

Shriiik-from  the  fun,  whofe  warmth  it  loves. 


RONDEAU — IN   THE  SHEPHERDESS   OF  THE  ALPS. 


AH  ir.en !  what  filly  things  you  are. 

To  woman  thus  to  humble, 
Who,  fowier  like,  but  fpreads  her  fnarc, 
Or,  at  her  timid  game 
Takes  aim, 
Pop,  fop,  and  down  you  tumble. 

She  marks  you  d'nvn,  fly  where  you  will, 
Or'e  clover,  grafs,  or  (lubbie  ; 

Can  wing  you,  feather  you,  or  kill, 
Juft  as  flie  takes  the  trouble. 
Ah  men,  &c. 


32  D1BDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Then  fly  not  from  us,  'tis  in  vain, 

We  know  the  art  of  fetting, 
As  well  as  (hooting,  and  can  train 

The  fhyeft  man  our  net  in. 
Ah  men,  &c. 

BALLAD — IN   THE  SHEPHERDESS  OF    THE   ALPS. 


BRIGHT  gems  that  twinkle  from  afar, 
Planets,  and  every  lefler  ftar, 
That  darting  each  a  downward  ray, 
Confole  us  for  the  lofs  of  day, 
Begone  !  e'en  Venus,  whofo  bright. 
Reflects  her  vifions  pure  and  white, 
Quick  difappear,  and  quit  the  fkies, 
For  lo !  the  moon  begins  to  rife ! 

Ye  pretty  warblers  of  the  grove, 
Who  chant  fuch  artlefs  tales  of  love, 
The  throftle,  gurgling  in  his  throat, 
The  linnet  with  his  filver  note, 
The  fearing  lark,  the  whittling  thrufli, 
The  mellow  blackbird,  goldfinch,  hufli, 
Fly,  vanifh,  difappear,  take  wing, 
The  jaightingale  begins  to  ling. 

BALLAD — IN  THE  SHEPHERDESS  OF  THE  ALPS. 


HERE  fleeps  in  peace,  beneath  this  ruflic  vafe, 

The  tendered  lover  a  hufband  could  prove ; 

Of  all  this  diflrefs,  alas !   1  am  the  caufe, 

8;)  much  I  ador'd  him,  heaven  envied  my  love. 

The  iigbs  I  rcfpire  ev'ry  morn  I  arife, 

The  mifcry  I  chcrifh,  the  grief,  and  the  pain, 

The  thoufand  of  tears  that  fall  from  my  eyes, 

Are  all  the  fad  comforts  for  me  that  remain. 

When,  his  colours  difplay'd,  honour  call'd  him  to  arms. 

By  ttndur  peiTuaiions  I  kept  him  away, 

His  glory  forgetting  for  thefe  fatal  charms, 

And  10  puuiih  me  he  is  deprived  of  the  day, 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS.  JJ 

Since  when  to  his  memory  I've  rais'd  this  fad  tomb, 
Where  to  join  him,  alas  !   I  fliall  fhortly  dcfcend  ; 
Where  forrow,  n(;r  pain,  nor  affliction  can  come, 
And  where  both  my  love  and  my  crime  fliall  have  end. 


BALLAD  -  IN    HARLEQUIN     FREEMASON. 


IN  all  your  dealing!  take  good  care, 
Inftruclcd  by  the  friendly  fquare, 
To  be  (rue,  upright,  jufr,  and  fair, 

And  thoti  a  fellow-craft  fhalt  be  : 
The  level  ib  muft  poife  thy  mind, 
That  fatisfaction  tLou  flialt  find, 
When  to  another  fortune's  kind  :— 

And  that's  the  drift  of  mafonry. 
The  compafs  t'other  two  compoundst 
And  lays,  though  anger'd  on  juft  grounds, 
Keep  all  your  paflions  within  bounds, 

And  thou  a  fellow  craft  flialt  be. 
Thus  fymbols  of  our  order  are 
The  compafs,  level,  znA  the  fquare  ; 
Which  teach  us  .  <  be  juu  and  fair  : 

And  that's  the  drift  of  mafonr. 


BALLAD  -  IN    HARLEQUIN     FREEMASON. 

THE  Sun's  a  free  mafon,  he  works  all  the  day, 

Village,  city,  and  town  to  adorn; 

Then  from  labour  at  reft, 

At  his  lod.'e  in  the  wed, 
Takes  v.i'h  goad  brother  Neptune  a  glafs  on  his  way. 

Thence  ripe  for  the  fair, 

He  flies  from  a!l  care, 

To  Dame  Thetis'  charms, 

Till  rous'd  from  her  arms 

By  the  morn. 
So  do  we,  our  labour  d  me, 

Firft  the  g'afc, 

And  then  the  lafs, 
And  then 


4  DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

Sweet  {lumbers  give  freHi  force 
To  run  cur  courfe, 
Thus  with  the  rifing  fun. 

The  courfe  of  the  fun  all  ourmyfieries  defines  : 

Firft  mafunry  rofe  in  the  eaft, 

Then,  to  no  point  confin'd, 

His  rays  chetr  mankind  ; 
Befidcs,  v.-ho'il  deny  but  he  well  knows  the  lisas  ? 

The  Grand  Matter  he 

Then  of  ma&ns  ihall  be, 

Nor  fliall  ought  the  crait  harm, 

Till  to  fliine  and  to  warm 

He  has  ceas'd. 

Then  likt  him,  our  labour  done,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN  HARLEQUIN  FREEMASON', 


AT  a  jovial  meeting  of  gods  once  on  high, 
Ere  Bacchus  was  hatch'd  from  old  Jupiter's  thigh, 
This  one  told  his  Uory,  and  that  fimg  his  fong, 
And  did  what  he  could  left  the  time  ihould  fcem  long. 
Apollo  read  verfes,  the  Graces  wreath'd  flowers, 
The  Mufes  of  harmony  fung  forth  the  powers, 
Bully  Mars  crack'd  his  joke,  and  fly  Momus  his  jeft ; 
Yet  their  mirth  wanted  fomething  to  give  it  a  zeft. 

Said  Jove,  our  affembly  to-day's  pretty  full, 
Yet,  I  dwn't  know  how  'tis,  we  are  horridly  dull; 
\Ve  have  all  the  ingredients  that  mirth  fliuuld  infpire, 
But  fome  clay-born  alloy  damps  our  heavenly  lire, 
I  have  it — in  this  I'll  a  mixture  inclofe 
Of  alffhe  delights  whence  good  fcllowfhip  flows, 
And  we'll  t'ifle  of  its  prcduce.  for  mirth's  bad  at  beft 
When  there's  any  thing  wauting  to  give  it  a  zeft. 

So  faying,  fo  doing,  he  buried  the  fhrine, 
Which  quickly  fprung  up  in  the  form  of  a  vine, 
The  leaves  broad  and  verdant,  the  fruit  deeped  blue, 
Whence  a  juice  flow'd  that  health,  love,  or  youth  might 

renew. 

Its  influence  to  feel,  they  came  round  it  in  f \vp.rms  , 
Mars    took   draughts   of  courage,  and  Venus   drank 

charms  ; 

Momus  fwallow'd  bon  mots,  Cupid  love — fo  the  reft, 
While  Jove,  fpurning  nedtar,  cry'd — This  is  the  zeft. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         35 

~<>..  ..<>..  <^  <S5><55>  »<>«  ••<>" 
BALLAD  —  IN    HA8.LECVUJN   FREEMASON. 

HERE  I  was,  my  good  matters,  my  name's  Teddy  Clinch 

My  cattle  are  found,  anl  1  drives  u>  an  inch; 

From  Hyde  Park  to  Wnite  C"'.:ipel  I  we  II  knou-  the  town. 

Antl  mauy's  the  time  I've  took  up  and  let  down  : 

In  fhort,  in  the  bills  I'll  he  bqund  fort  there's  not 

A  young  youth  who,  like  Teddy,  can  tip  the  long  trot. 

Oil  the  notions  of  life  that  I  fee  from  my  box, 

While  faces  of  all  kinds  come  about  me  in  flocks  ; 

The  fot  whom  I  drive  home  to  fleep  out  the  day, 

The  kind  ene  who  pHes  for  a  fare  at  the  ;>'ay ; 

Or,  yswr  ger.ts  of  the  law,  there,  who,  fouriu  &  lot, 

To  Wefbminfter  Hall  I  oft  tip  the  long  trot. 

My  coach  receives  all,  like  the  gallows  and  fea, 

So  I  touch  but  my  fair  you  kiuw  all's   >'ie  to  me  ; 

The  men  of  the  gown,  and  the  men  of  the  Avord, 

A  ma'am,  or  a  gambler,  a  rogue,  or  a  lord; 

To  wherever  you're  going  I  well  know  the  fpot, 

And;  do  you  tip  a  tizzy,  I'll  tip  the  long  trot. 

••<>•••  ••<>••  3=>><S3><S>  — <>«••«>" 
B  \LLAD IX   THE  ISLANDERS. 


THE  ladies'  f:iccs,   now  n-;!;'vs, 

Are  various  r.s  their  humours, 
And  on  cniri.;!..xioi!S  oft  we  gnzc, 

Brought  home  from  the  periumer's. 
Hid  as  it  were  beneath  a  cloak, 

The  beauty's  fa^e  that  wins  you, 
Then  pp.rpon  me,  by  way  of  joke, 

If  1  prefer  my  Dingy. 
A  handkerchief  can  r;i!>  a\vay 

Your  roles  and  yowrliilics  ; 
The  more  you  rinl,   t'lie  more  you  may, 

My  Dingy  din  iy  ftil!  is 
Betide.-,   her  hair  i*  black  asj?t, 

Her  eyes  are  gems  from  India  ; 
Rail  as  you  liil  then,  1  fla'Uet, 

For  joke's;  f.ikc  love  pour  Di;;;;/. 


36       DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

BALLAD IN    THE    ISLANDERS. 


DiD  fortune  bid  me  chufea  flate 

From  all  that's  rich,  and  all  that's  great, 

From  all  that  oftentation  brings, 

The  fplendor,  pride,   and  pomp  of  kings  ; 

Thefe  gift*,  and  more,  did  flie  difplay, 

With  health,  that  felt  not  life's  decay, 

I'd  fpurn  with  fcorn  the  ufelefs  lot, 

Were  my  Camilla's  name  forgot. 

But  did  flie  for  my  fate  aflign, 

That  I  fhould  labour  in  a  mine; 

Or,  with  many  wretches  more, 

In  flavery  chain  me  to  an  oar ; 

Or  from  the  fight  of  men  exiled, 

Send  me  to  a  Siberian  wi  Id, 

For  this  arid  more  would  fhe  attone, 

Were  my  Camilla  all  my  own. 

BALLAD IN    THE    ISLANDERS. 


WHEN  Yanko  dear  fight  far  away, 

Some  token  kind  me  fend  ; 
One  branch  of  olive,  fot  dat  fiy 

Me  willi  de  battle  end. 
The  poplar  tremble  as  him  go, 

Say  of  dy  life  take  care, 
Me  fend  no  laurel,  forme  know 

Of  that  him  find  him  fhare. 
De  ivy  fay  my  heart  be  true, 

Me  droop  fay  willow  tree, 
De  torn  he  fay  me  Tick  for  you, 

De  fun-flower  link  of  me. 
Till  laft  me  ;jo    weep  vid  the  pine, 

For  ftar  poor  Yanko  dead  ; 
He  corne,  and  I  de  myrtle  twine, 

In  chaplct  ior  him  head. 


BIBDIN*S  SELECTED   SONGS.  37 

«.«>.....<>..  <~£><3=£><s>..<>...~<v~ 

SONG — IN   THE   ISLANDERS. 


I'LL  mount  the  cliffs,  I'll  watch  the  coaft, 

Anxicus  fome  welcome  tidings  loon  to  bear, 
Nor  let  your  fortitude  he  loft, 

Confiding  ftill  in  honeft  Yanko's  care, 
Though  to  my  comrades  I'm  untrue, 

Honour  fhall  infideiity  applaud, 
And  call  in  charity  to  you, 

My  broken  faith  to  them  a  pious  fraud. 


BALLAD  —  IN   THE   ISLANDERS. 


ORRA  no  talk,  no  fay  fine  word, 

No  drefs  him,  no  look  gay, 
Vay  little  fing  you  hear  von  bird, 

Him  mate  be  gone  away. 
Orra  tell  true,  fhe  have  no  grace 

Of  lady  for  him  part, 
Dare  beauty  all  be  in  him  face, 

But  Orra  in  him  heart, 
Orra  do  little,  all  fhe  do; 

Frogive,  for  fhe  no  gal!, 
To  every  ting  fhe  promife  true, 

J.ove  Yanko,  and  dat  all. 
But  Orra,  &c. 


BALLAD — IN  THE  ISLANDERS. 


POOR  Orra  tink  of  Yanko  dear, 

Do  he  be  gone  forever, 
For  he  no  dead,  he  (till  live  here, 

And  he  from  here  go  never. 
Like  on  a  fand  me  mark  him  fate, 

DC  wave  ccme  roll  him  over, 
De  mark  him  go,  but  Hill  the  place 

"Tis  eafy  to  difcover. 

1) 


191 605 


38          DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

I  fee  fore  now  de  tree  de  flower, 

He  droop  like  Orra,  furcly, 
An:i  den  by'm  bye  there  come  a  fliowcr, 

He  hold  him  head  up  purely  : 
And  fo  fomc  time  me  tink  me  die, 

My  heart  fo  iick  he  grieve  me, 
But  in  a  lily  time  me  cry 

Good  deal,  and  dat  relieve  me. 


SONG  -  IN    THE    ISLANDERS. 


PASSION  is  a  torrent  rude, 
Which  rapid  be.irsdown  every  height, 

A  turbulent,  unruly  flood, 
Which  with  the  ocean  would  unite. 

Rcafon's  a  fountain,  calm  ferene, 
Which,  near  gay  fields,  and  laughing  bow'rs, 

While  it  reflects  th'  enchanting  fcene, 
Is  born  among  a  bed  of  flowers. 


—o—  •• 

BALLAD  —  IN  THE  ISLANDERS. 


A  BF.D  of  rn^fs  we'll  ftraight  prepare, 

Where,  near  him  gently  creeping, 
We'll  pat  his  cheeks,  anil  ftroke  his  hair. 

And  watch  him  while  he's  fleeping. 
Sweet  flowers  of  every  fccnt  and  hue, 

I' inks,  violets,  and  rofes, 
And  blooming  hyacinths  we'll  ftrew, 

As  fweetly  he  repofe's. 
And  we'll  with  fond  emotion  flart, 

And  while,  with  admiration, 
We  foftly  feel  his  fluttering  heart, 

Partake  its  palpitation. 

BALLAD — IN     THE    ISLANDERS. 


COME,  courage  lads,  and  drink  away, 
A  man  upon  his  wedding  day 
Ought  rarely  well  his  part  to  play 
At  Stingo,  or  Odlober  : 


DJBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         39 

for,  who  would  be  that  ftupiJ  elf 
I'  or  whim,  caprice,  or  love,  or  pelf, 
To  poifon,  hang,  or  drotf-n  himfclf, 

Or  marry  when  he's  fobcr. 
For  madam's  wi!l  nt  nothing  flu-is, 
She  muft  have  hails,  and  routs,  and  fops, 
And  of:  en  ranfack  all  the  ihops, 

la  gay  attire  to  robe  her  : 
Then  drink  the  day  you  take  a  wife, 
As  the  laft  comfort  oi"  your  life  : 
'For,  ever  after,  noife  and  (trifc 

Are  furc  to  keep  you  i'ober. 


BALLAD  -  INTENDED    FOR  THE  QUAKER. 

THOU'ST  heard  thofe  old  proverbs,  ne'er  lean  on  a  rufli, 
A  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bull', 
'Tis  the  money  paid  down  that  decides  who's  the  winner, 
Who  waits  upon  fortune's  ne'er  fure  of  a  dinner  : 
Out  of  light  out  of  mind,  delaying  breeds  danger, 
He  ought  to  be  cozen'd  who  trufb  to  a  flranger  • 
Heaven  take  my  friend,  and  the  old  one  my  brother, 
I'romifing's  one  thing,  performing  another. 

Much  may  fall  out  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip, 
The  builder's  receipt's  the  heft  fail  in  the  fliip, 
'  I'is  a  good  thing  to  lend,   but  a  better  to  borrow, 
Pay  me  to-day,   and  I'll  truft  you  to-morrow. 
Brag  is  a  good  dog,  but  hold-faft  a  better, 
You  may  gucfs  at  a  word  when  you  know  th.-;  firft  ktttr, 
There's  not  the  nioft  fire  where  you  fee  the  mo  ft  fmoiher, 
I'romifing's  one  thing,  performing  another. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  MISCHANCE. 


O  THINK  on  the  tine  when  you  came  home  at  night, 
And  fupp'd  upon  mufclc.s   no  lily  more  white, 
When  I  u  ed  to  provide  you  with  many  a  treat 
Oi'.  as  riuc  Melton'  oyder*  as  ever  were  eat. 
Now  I'te  what  a  change  !  all  ihc  mufcles  for  me 
May  !>e  tiod  under  foot,  or  thrown  into  the  lea  ; 
My  j'>ey  is  'V.fr  !   and  ths  once  fpriglitly  toi:e 
\viiicli  I  cry'd  oyfters  is  funk  to  a  drout  ! 


4O        DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

When  the  laft  kit  of  falnion  we  fat  down  to  broach, 

-And  you  told  me  your  heart  wa=  as  found  as  a  roach, 

How  fweet  was  my  temper  !  what  joy»  did  I  fell, 

Little  thinking  you'd  flip  through  my  hands  like  an  ccl. 

But  my  temper's  now  chang'd — I,  that  once  was  fo  mild, 

I  was  thought  to  be  gentle  and  meek  as  a  child, 

So  cruftyam  grown,  I  ne'er  fpeak  a  word  civil, 

And  my  cufloir.ers  fay  I'm  as  crofs  as  the  devil. 

My  ftall  wjs  fo  clean,  and  my  tubs  were  fo  white, 

They  were  perfectly — people  would  tell  me — a  fight: 

I  liften'd  with  jo  j  when  the  folks  told  me  fo, 

For  my  flail  and  my  tubs  were  both  fcov/er'd  for  Joe. 

But  now  they're  all  dirty,  ncglcclcd  they  lie, 

I  oft  take  them  up,  and  as  oft  throw  them  by, 

For  his  fake  I  pleafure  in  cleaning  them  found, 

He  has  left  me,  and  now  they're  as  black  as  the  groun-l. 

BALLAD  —  IN    PANDORA. 


V/ HAT  naughty  things  we  women  arc, 

Who  long  for  fruit  forbidden  ; 
Though  'twere  our  bane,  we  cannot  bear 

The  leafl  thing  from  us  hidden. 
JV.it  what  we  fee  \vill  we  believe, 

'I  hough  ill  on  ill  we're  heaping, 
Though  to  this  day,  from  mother  ETC, 

\Vt-  have  always  paid  for  peeping. 
Thus  curious  git  Is,   urged  iiy  their  youth, 

Thoiightlefs  wJi.it  they  were  doing. 
Have  fa!  I  hood  found  clifguis'd  like  truth, 

And  maik'd  like  pleafure,  ruin. 
Inftead  of  foiling,  who  muft  grieve, 

Whofe  joys  are  turn'd  to  weeping, 
And  who  too  lite,   like,  mother  Eve, 

Find  they  have  paid  for  peeping. 
Should  I  to  my  defires  give  way, 

t  may  encounter  forrow, 
And  th'it  I  think  agood  to  -day, 

May  prove  an  il!  to-morrow. 
Ytt,  caution*  prudence,  by  your  leave,. 

The  lecret's  in  my  keeping; 
i  &m  wak  woman,  and,   like  Eve, 

O.uii'jt  n. Train  tYoin  peeping. 


'S   SELECTED   SONGS.  4! 


BALLAD — -IN     THE     REASONABLE    ANIMALS. 

— A  Wolf  who  had  been  a.  Lawyer.— 

By  roguery,  'tis  true, 

I  opulent  grew, 
Ju(>  like  my  other  profeffional  Tinner; 

An  orphan,  d'ye   i'c-  , 

W'>u'd  juft  waHi  down  my  tea. 
And  a  poor  fricudlefs  widow  would  ferve  me  for  dinner, 

I  was,   to  l)e  fare, 

Of  the  helplefs  and  poor 
A  guardian  appointed  to  manage  the  pelf ; 

And  I  manag'd  it  we!!, 

But  how — fays  you — tell  ? 
Why  I  let  them  all  ftarve,  to  take  care  of  my  ft  If. 

With  thefe  tricks  I  went  on 

Till,  faith  fir,  anon, 
A  parcel  of  ftnpid,  mean-fainted  fnu's, 

As  they  narrowly  watth'd  me, 

Soon  at  my  tricks  cntc'i'd  m?. 
And,  in  their  own  words,   haul'd  me  over  the  coals. 

In  the  pillory,  that  fate 

For  rogues,  foon  or  Lite, 
I  flood,  for  the  fport  of  a  cliiiolute  mob; 

Till  my  neck  Matter  Ketch 

Was  fo  eaoer  to  ftretch, 
That  I  gave  the  thing  up  as  a  dangerous  job. 

Now  a  wolf — from  their  dams 

I  ftcal  plenty  of  lambs, 
Pampcr'd  high,  and  well  fed — an  infatiable  glutton— 

In  much  the  fame  fphere 

When  a  man,  I  move  here, 

Make    and   break    laws   at    pleafure,    and   kill    my    C 
mutton. 

Then  lince,  for  their  fport, 

No  one  here  movcs'thc  court, 
Kor  am  I  amenable  to  an  employer, 

I  flull  ever  prefer, 

With  your  leave,  my  good  fir, 
The  lift  of  a  wolf  to  the  life  of  a  lawyer. 
D  2 


42,         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

BALLAD IN    THE    REASONABLE    ANIMALS. 


—  A  bog  <ivbo  had  ban  an  alderman—' 
FO'l  dainties  I've  had  of  them  all, 
At  taverns,   Lord  Mayor's,  and  Guildhall, 
\Vhcre  the  purveyors,  nothing  dingy, 

To  fill  the  wallet, 

And  pamper  the  paLite, 
Have  rarities  brought  from  India. 
Then  what  fignitics  what  one  takes  in, 
for,   when  one's  cram'd  up  to  the  chin, 
Why,  really,  good  friend  to  my  thinking, 

If  on  veniibn  and  wines, 

Or  on  hogwafh,   one  dines, 
At  lafl  'tis  but  eating  and  drinkcing. 
Bs.iules,  I've  no  books  I  arrange, 
Nor  at  two  need  1  e'er  go  to  change  ; 
Have  no   bufmefs  with  noie,  bund,  or  tally, 

Nor  need  I,  from  any  ill  luck, 

K'ihcr  bull,  or  a  bear,  or  lame  duck, 
.Ever  fear  waddling  out  of  the  alley, 
for  dainties,  &c. 

KALLAD IN    THE    REASONABLE   ANIMALS. 


—  A  lull  -ivko  bad  been  an  Irijhman — 

IS'T  mv  fh>ry  you'd  know  ? — I  was  Patrick  Muhooney, 

A  johnan,  and  Ireland  my  nation, 
To  be  fare  I  was  not  a  tight  fellow  too,  honey, 

Before  rny  tranfmogritication. 
\  did  rat  at  all  t'-ilk  oi  flames  and  of  darts, 
To  coWjuer  the  fair — the  dca-  jewels ! 
And  wid  hufbands,  becafe  why  I  won  their  wive.1)'  hearts, 
1  did  not  tight  plenty  of  d:> •;]&. 

Then  arrah,  bodder  how  you  can, 

You'll  ne'er  peifuade  me,  honey, 
For  1  lhall  al\vays,  bull  or  man, 
Be  Patrick.  Mulrooncy; 


DIBD1N  S    SELECTED     SONGS.  43 

When  at  Almack's,  or  White's  <>r  ?-t  Brookes's,  or  Boodle's, 

I've  fat  up  all  night  in  the  morning, 
"Mongtt  blacklegs,  and  congers,  and  pigeons,  and  noodles, 

The  calling  to  ufe  I  was  born  in  : 
To  be  fare  many  hone  ft  gold  guineas  it  yields, 

But,  iince  'tis  a  fervice  of  danger, 
I'm  a  better  man  now  I'm  a  bull  in  the  fields, 

To  popping  and  tilting  a  ftranger. 

BALLAD IN    LIBERTY-HALL. 


WERE  Patience  kind  to  me 

Oh  he  de  nos  ! 
Far  plyther  than  a  coat  I'd  be, 

Oh  he  de  nos  ! 

Leap,  fk!p,  and  pound,  would  poor  Ap  Hugh, 
And  capriole,  and  caper  too, 
And  friik,  sr.d  jump,  and  dance,  look  you, 
Oh  he  de  nos  ! 

But  Patience  very  cruel  is, 

Oh  he  de  nos! 
With  jibts,  and  cheers,  and  mockeries, 

Oh  he  de  nos  ! 

Which  makes  to  iigh  and  fob  Ap  Hugh, 
And  whining,  his  fad  fortune  rue, 
And  crieve,  and  croan,  and  cruut,  look  you> 

Oh  he  de  uos  ! 


BALLAD  -  IN   L1BER.TY-HALL, 


WHEN  faintly  gleams  the  doubtful  day, 
Ere  yet  the'dew  drops  on  the  thorn, 

Borrow  a  luftrefrom  the  ray 

That  tips  with  gold  the  dancing  corn, 

Health  bids  awake,  and  homage  pay 
To  him  who  gave  another  morn. 

And,  well  with  ftrength  his  nerves  te  bra«€, 

Urges  the  fportfinan  to  the  chafe. 

Do  we  purfue  the  timid  hare, 

'   As  trembling  o'er  the  lawn  fhe  bounds  ? 

S.ill  of  heriafcty  have  we  carc» 


44  DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

While  fecming  death  her  flop*  furrounds, 
We  the  clefencelels  creature  fpare, 

.«*nd  iiiftant  flop  the  well  taught    hounds  : 
For  cruelty  fhould  ne'er  diigrace 
The  well-earn'd  pleafure  of  the  chafe. 
Do  we  purfue  the  fuhtle  fox, 

Still  let  him  breaks  and  rivers  try, 
Through  marfhes  wade,  or  climb  the  rocks, 

The  deep-mouth'd  hounds  lliall  following  fly 
And  while  he  every  danger  mocks, 

Unpitiedlhal!  the  culprit  die: 
To   quell  this  cruel,  arcful  race, 
Is  labour  worthy  of  the  chafe. 
Return'd,  with  fhaggy  fpoils  well  ftor'd, 

To  our  convivial  joys  at  night, 
We  toaft,  and  fir  ft  our  country's  lord, 

Anxious  who  moft  lhall  do  him  right; 
1  he  fair  next  crowns  the  focial  board, 

Britons   ihnuld    love    as  well   as   fight  — 
For  he  who  flights  the  tender  race, 
Is  held  unworthy  of  the  chafe. 


SONG—  IN     LIBERTY-HALL. 


WHO  to  my  wounds  a  balm  advifes, 

But  little  knows  what  I  endure; 
The  patient's    pain    to   torture   rifcs 

When  medicine's  try'd,  and  fails  to  cure. 
What  can  the  wifeft  counfel  teach  me, 

But  fad  remembrance  of  my  grief  ? 
.V.is!  your  klndnefs   cannot    reach  me, 

It  jives  bat  words — I  aik  relief. 


BALLAD  —  IN    LIEERTY-HALL. 


RATLIN  was  the  ablefl  fea-man, 
None  like  him  ecu  Id  hand,    reef,  and  fleer, 
No  dangerous  toil  but  he'd  encounter, 
With  flail,  and  in  contempt  of  ftar  : 
In  fight  a  lion  —  the  battle  ended, 
Meek  as  a  bleating  lamb  he'd  \  rove  ; 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS.     45 

Thus  Jack  had  manners,  courage,  merit, 
Yet  did  he  figh,  and  all  for  love. 

The  fong,  the  jeft,  the  flowing  liquor, 
For  none  of  tliefc  had  Jack  regard  ; 
He,  while  his  meflmates  were  caroufing, 
High  fitting  on  the  pendant  yard, 
Would  think  upon  his  fair  ones  beauties, 
Swear  never  from  fuch  charms  to  rove, 
That  truly  he'd  adore  them  living, 
And,  dying,  figh  —  to  end  his  love. 
The  fame  exprcfs  the  erew  commanded 
Once  more  to  view  their  native  land, 
Among  the  reft,  brought  Jack  f;nne  tidingi, 
Would  it  had  been  his  love's  fair  hand! 
Oh  fate  —  her  death  dcfac'd  the  letter, 
Inftaut  her  pulfe  forgot  to  move, 
With  quiv'ring  lip?,  and  eyes  uplifted, 
He  heav'd  a  figh  —  and  dy'd  for  love  ! 


GLEE  -  IN  LIBERTY  HALL. 


WHAT  if  my  pleafures  fools  condemn, 
Becaufe  I  am  not  dull,  like  them, 
Decauie  no  minute  I  let  pafs, 
Unmark'd  by  a  convivial  glafs  ? 
Or  elfe  retir'd  from  ftrife  and  noife, 
I  tempt  the  fair  to  fofter  joys; 
A  mortal  with  a  foul  divine, 
Alternate  crown'd  with  love  and  wine. 
Tacfe  fliail  on  earth  my  being  fhare, 
And  when  I'm  gone,  if  in  my  heir 
My  fpirit  live,  let  him  not  mount, 
But  lee  embofs'd  upon  my  urn. 
Bacchus  and  Venus  in  A  wreath, 
With  this  infcription  underneath  : 
"  This  mortal  had  a  foul  divine, 
"  Alternate  crour'd  with  love  and  wine.'* 


...,<>... 

BALLAD  —  IN    LIBERTY-HALL. 


WHEN  fairies  are  lighted  by  night's  filver  queen. 
And  feaftin  the  meadow,  or  dance  on  the  gretn, 
My  Lambkin  afidc  lays  his  plough  ar»d  hi*  flail, 


46         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

By  yon  oak  to  fit  near  me,  and  tell  his  fond  tale. 
And  though  I'm  affur'd  the  fame  vows  were  believed 
By  Patty  and  Ruth,  he  forfook  and  deceived, 
Yet,  fo  fvrect  are  his  word?,  and  like  truth  fo  appear, 
I  pardon  thetrcafon,  the  traitor's  fo  dear. 

I  faw  the  ftraw  bonnet  he  bought  at  the  fair, 
The  rofe-coi(.ur'd  ribbon  to  deck  Jenny's  hair. 
The  fhoe-ties  of  Bridget,  and  dill  worfc  than  this, 
The  gloves  he  gave  Peggy  for  dealing  a  kifs. 
All  thefe  did  I  ice,  and  with  heart-rendiug  pain, 
Swore  to  part ;  yet  I  know,  when  I  fee  him  again, 
His  words  and  his  looks  will  like  truth  fo  appear, 
I  fiiail  pardon  the  trcafon,  the  traitor's,  fo  dear. 


BALLAD IN     LIBERTY    HALL. 


SEE  the  courfe  throned  with  gazers,  the  fports  arc   rscgiHt 
The  confufien  but  hear  ! — I'll  bet  you  fir — done,  done ; 
Ten  thoufand  ftraugu  murmurs  refound  far  and  near, 
Lords,  hawkers,  andjockics,  affail  the  tir'd  ear  : 
While  with  neck  like  a  rainbow,  erecting  his  creft, 
Pamper'd,    prancing,  and  plcas'd,    his    head    touching  his 

bread 

Scarcely  fr.uffingthe  air,  he's  fo  proud  and  elate, 
The  high-mettled  racer  firft  ftarts  for  the  plate. 

Now  renard's  turn'd  out,  and  o'er  hedge  and  ditch  rufli, 
Hounds,  horfes,  and  hunti'men,  all  hard  at  thisbrufli ; 
They  run  him  at  length,  and  they  have  him  at  bay, 
And  by  fcent  and  by  view  cheat  a  long  tedious  way  : 
While,  alike  born  for  fports  of  the  field  and  the  courfe, 
Always  fure  to  come  thorough,  a  ftaunch  and  fleet  horfe  ; 
When  fairly  run  down,  the  fox  yields  up  his  breath, 
The  high-mettled  racer  is  in  at  the  death. 

Grown  aged,   ufed  up,  and  turn'd  out  of  the  dud. 

Lame,  ^|>avin'd,  and  windgali'd,  but  yet  with  feme  bloc  d  ;. 

While  l^Bwing  podillions  his  pedigree  trace, 

Tell  his^ram  won  the  lvveepilc;ikcs,  his  fire  gain'd  that  race  j 

And  what  matches  he  won  to  the  odlers  count  o'er, 

As  they  loiter  their  time  at  fome  hedge  ale  houfe  door, 

While  the  harnefs  foregalis,  and  the  fpurs  his  fides  goad, 

The  high-mettled  racer's  a  hack  on  the  roadi. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         47 

Tillatlaft,  having  labour'cl,  drudg'd  early  and  late, 
Bow'd  down-by  degree',  he  bends  on  his  la  c, 
Blind,  old,  lean,  and  feeble,  he  tugs  round  a  mill, 
Or  draws  fand,  till  the  fandof  his  hour-glafs  .'Lauds  ftiil  : 
An.'  now,  cold  anrl  lifelefs,  <    jio.Vd  Lo  the  view, 
IH  the  very  fame  fart  which  he  vtfterday  drew, 
While  a  pitying  crowd  his  fad  rt  licks  furrounds, 
The  high-mettled  racer  is  feKl  fur  the  hounds. 


BALLAD  —  IN    LIBERTY   HALL. 


DO  falmonds  love  a  lucid  ftream  ? 

Do  thirlly  fheep  love  fountains? 
Do  Druids  love  a   doleful   theme  ? 

Or  goats  the  craggy  mountains  ? 
If  it  be  true  thefe  things  are  fo, 

As  truly  (lie's  my  lovey, 

And  os  wit  I  yng  carie  I, 

Rooi  fit  dwyn  de  garie  di, 
Asein,  dai,  tree,  pedw-»r,  pimp,  chweck  go 

The  bells  of  Aberdovey. 

Do  keffelslove  a  whifp  of  hay? 

Do  fpnghtly  kids  love  prancing  ? 
Do  curates  crowdies  love  to  play  ? 

Or  peafants  morice  dancing  ? 

If  it  be  true,  &c. 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE    BENEVOLENT    TAR. 


A  PLAGUE  of  thofe  mully  old  lubbers, 

Who  tell  us  to  faft  and  to  think, 
And  patient  fall  in  with  life's  rubbers, 

With  nothing  but  water  to  drink, 
A  can  of  good  Ituff!  had  they  twigg'd  it,          ^ 
'Twould  have  fet  them  for  pleafure  agog, 
And,  fp'ght  of  the  rules 
Ofthefchooh, 
The  old  fools 

Would  have  all  of  'em  fwigg'd  it, 
And  fworc  there  was  nothing  like  grog. 


48         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

My  father  when  laft  I  from  Guinea 
Return'd,  with  abundance  of  wealth, 

Cry'd  Jack,  never  be  fuch  a  ninny 

To  drink  : — laid  I— father  your  health. 

J5o  I  fhew'd  him  the  (luff,  and  he  twigg'd  it, 

And  it  fct  the  old  codger  agog, 
And  he  iwigg'd,  and  mother, 
And  filler,  and  brother, 

And  I  fwigg'd,  and  all  ol  us  fwigg'd  it, 

And  fwore  there  was  nothing  like  grog. 

T'other  day  as  the  chaplain  was  preaching. 

Behind  him  I  curioufly  flunk, 
And  while  he  our  duty  was  teaching, 
As  how  we  fliould  never  get  drunk, 
I  fhew'd  him  the  fluff,  and  he  twigg'd  it,. 
And  it  foon  fet  his  rev'rence  agog. 

And  he  fwigg'd,  and  Nick  fwigg'd, 
And  Ben  fwigg'd,  and  Dick  fwigg'd, 
And  I  fwigg'd,  and  all  of  us  fwigg'd  it, 
And  fwore   there  was  nothing  like  grog. 
Then  truft  me  there's  nothing  like  drinking, 

So  pleafant  on  this  fide  the  grave  ; 
It  keeps   the  unhappy  from   thinking, 

And  makes  e'en  thev  alinnt  more  brave. 
As  for  me,  from  the  moment  I  twigg'd  it, 
The  good  ftufFhas  fo  let  me  agog, 
Sick  or  well,  la'e  or  early, 
Wind  foully  or  fairly, 
Helm  a-lee  or  a- weather, 
For  hours  together, 
I've  conftantly  fwigg'd  it, 
And,  dam'me,  there's  nothing  like  grog. 

BALLAD IN    THE    BENEVOLENT    TAB. 

WHAT  argufies  pride  and  ambition  ? 
Soon  or  late  death  will  take  us  in  tow  j 
Each  bullet  has  got  its  commifllon, 
And  when  our  time's  come  we  muft  go. 

Then  drink  and  fing — hang  pain  and  forrow. 
The  halter  was  made  for  the  neck  ; 
He  that's  now  live  and  lufty — to-morrow 
Perhaps  may  be  flretch'd  on  the  deck. 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED 

Then  drink  and  iing  —  hang  pain  and  furrow 
The  halter  was  made  for  the  neck  ; 
He  that's  now  live  and  lu'iy  —  to-morrow 
Perhapf  may  be  ftretch'd  on  the  deck. 
There  was  little  Tom  Linflock  of  Dover 

Got  kih'd,  and  Jcft  Polly  in  pain, 
Toll  cry  'd,   but  her  grief  was  Toon  over, 

And  then  fhe  got  married  again. 

Then  drink,  £c. 
Jack  Junk  was  ill  ufed  by  Bet  CrockeY, 

And  fo  took  to  guzzling  the.  fluff, 
Till  he  tumbled  in  okl  Davy's  locker, 

And  there  he  got  liquor  enough. 

Then  drink,  &c. 
For  our  r  rize  money  then  to  the  procftor, 

Take  of  joy  while  'tis  going  our  freak; 
for  what  argufies  calling  the  doclor 

When  the  anchor  of  life  is  apeak. 
Then  drink,  &c. 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE    BENEVOLENT    TA&. 


A  Sailor's  love  is  void  of  art, 
Plain  failing  to  his  port,  the  heart, 
He  knows  no  jealous  folly  : 
'Twere  hard  enough  at  fea  to  war 
With  hoiflerous  elements  that  jar — 
All's  peace  with  lovely  Polly. 
Enough  that,  far  from  fight  of  fhore, 
Cleuds  frown,  and  angry  billows  roar. 
Still  is  he  briik  and  jolly  : 
And  while  carouliwg  with  his  mates, 
Her  health  he  drinks — anticipates 
The  fmiles  of  lovely  Polly. 
Should  thunder  on  the  horizon  prefs, 
Mocking  our  fignals  of  diftrefs, 
E'en  then  dull  melancholy, 
Dares  not  intrude  • — he  braves  the  difi, 
In  hopes  to  find  a  calm  within 
The  fnnvy  arms  of  Polly. 
E 


SELECTED   SONGS. 


BALLAD  - 


IN     THE    MILK  MAID. 


SWEET  clitics  would  my  Patty  Cng, 

Old  Chevy  Chafe,  God  fave  the  King, 

Fair  Rofemy,  and  Sawny  Scot, 

Lilelmlaro,  the  Irifh  Trot, 

All  thefe  would  fmg  my  blue-ey'd  Patty. 

As  with  her  pail  fhe'd  trudge  along, 

While  flill  the  burthen  of  her  fong 

My  hammer  beat  to  blue-ey'd  Patty. 

But  nipping  frofts  and  clulling  rain 

Too  foon  alas  choak'd  every  itrain  ; 

Too  foon,  alas  !  the  miry  way 

Her  wet  fhod  feet  did  fore  difmay. 

And  hoarfc  was  heard  my  blue-ey'd  Patty. 

While  I  for  very  mad  did  cry  ; 

Ah  could  I  but  again,  faid  I, 

Hear  the  fwcet  voice  of  blue-ey'd  Patty  ' 

Love  taught  me  how — I  work'd,  I  lung, 

My  anvil  glow'd,  my  hammer  rung, 

Till  I  had  form'd  from  out  the  fire, 

To  bear  her  feet  above  the  mire, 

An  engine  for  my  blue-ey'd  Patty. 

Again  was  heard  each  tuneful  clofe, 

My  fair  one  on  the  patten  rofe, 

Which  takes  its  name  from  blue-ey'd  Patty. 


BALLAD IN   HARVEST  HOME. 

A  a  Dermot  toil'd  one  fummer's  day, 
Young  Shelah,  as  fhe  fat  behind  him, 
Fairly  ftole  his  pipe  away — 
Oh  den  to  hear  how  ilie'd  deride  him. 
Where,  poor  Dermot  is  it  gone, 
Your  lily  lily  loodlc  ? 
They've  left  you  nothing  but  tli£  drone. 
And  that's  yourfelf,  you  noodle. 
.Bcum  bum  boodle,   loadle  lo, 
Poor  Dermot's  pipe  is  lolt  and  gone, 
And  what  will  the  poor  devil  do  ? 


OIEDINT'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          51 

Fait,  now  I  am  undone  and  more, 

Cry'd  Derniot  —  ah  will  you  he  aefy  ? 

Did  not  you  flalc  my  heart  before  ? 

Is  it  you'd  have  a  man  run  crazy  ? 

I've  nothing  left  me  now  to  m  ,;,r?> 

My  lily  lily  loodle, 

Thai.  ufed  to  chcar  me  fo  is  gone  — 

Ah  Derniot  thou'rt  a  noodle. 

Beum  bam  boodle,  loodle  lo, 

My  heart,  and  pipe,  and  peace  are  gone  — 

What  next  will  cruel  Shd.ih  do  ? 

But  Shclah  hearing  Dcrmot  vex, 

Cry'd  flic,  'uv;is  little  CupH  mov'd  me, 

Ye  fool  to  fted  it  out  of  tricks, 

Only  to  fee  how  much  you  lov'd  n:e. 

Come  cheer  thee  D-jrmont,  never  moan, 

Bat  take  your  lily  loodle, 

And  for  the  heart  of  you  that's  gone, 

You  fhall  have  mine,  you  noodle. 

Beum  bum  boodle,  loodle  lo, 

Shela's  to  church  with  Dcrmot  ganc, 

And  for  the  reft  —  what's  dat  to  you. 


BALLAD  -  IN     CLUMP    AND    CUDDEK,- 


THIS,  this  my  lad's  a  foldier's  life, 
He  marches  to  the  fprightly  fife, 
And  in  each  fown  to  fonie  new  wife, 

Swears  he'll  be  ever  true; 
He's  here — he's  there — where  is  he  not  ? 
Variety's  his  envied  lot, 
He  eats,  drinks,  flceps,  and  pays  no  fiiot, 
And  fellows  the  loud  tattoo. 
Cali'd  out  to  face  his  country's  foes, 
The  tears  of  fond  domestic  woes 
He  kiflcs  off,  and  boldly  goes 
To  earn  of  fame  his  due. 
Religion,  liberty,  and  laws, 
Both  his  are,  and  his  country's  caufe — 
Fur  thei'c,  through  danger,  without  paufe, 

He  follows  the  loud  tattoo. 
A  id  if  at  lafl,  in  honour's  wars, 
He  earn*  his  Chare  of  danger's  fears, 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS. 

Still  he  feels  bold,  and  thanks  his  ftars 

Hi.-'s  no  wone  fate  to  lue  : 
At  Che  lea,  free  Irom  toil  and  pain, 
.He  wields  his  crutch,  points  out  the  flair,. 
And,  in  fond  fancy,  once  again, 

Follows  the  loud  tattoo. 


BALLAD- — IN    TOM    THUMB. 


LS  it  little  Torn  Thumb  that  you  mean,  and  hi*  battles  ! 

Arrah  fend  him  for  playthings  fome  whifilts  msd  rattfes  ; 

At  the  fight  of  a  iword  all  his  nerves  would  be  quaking', 

He  fight  !  he  kill  giauts  !  is  it  game  you  are  making? 

As  well  may  you  tt.-ll  us  that  eagles  fear  larks, 

That  mice  cat  up  lions,  and  fprats  fwallow  fliarks  : 

Then  talk  not  of  any  fuch  nonfenic  to  me  — 

Vv'id  your  confounded  hoderum  bumboodle  liddle  lee. 

Tom  Thumb  !  fuch  a  fhrimp  fure  no  eyes  ever  faw— 

He  handles  his  arms  as  a  fly  hugs  a  flraw  : 

To  be  lure  in  the  wars  dangers  certain  to  quit  him, 

For  the  taef's  fuch  K  flea  dare's  no  bullet  can  hit  him. 

_*r;d  then  a*  to  courage,  my  jewel  —  hoot,   hoot  ! 

Arrah  did  not  I  find  him  chin  deep  in  my  boot  ? 

Then  talk  not  of  any  fuch  nonfenfe  to  ine, 

Wid  your  confounded  botlcium  bumboodlc  'iddlc  lee. 

Tom  Thumb  marry  you  !  —  mufha  honey  be  aefy, 

Were  it  not  for  your  fcnfe,   I  IhouUl  think  you  gone  crazy 

Shall  a  fine  Aately  oftrich  thus  wed  a  cock-fparrow  ? 

'Twere  a  haiberd  (luck  up  by  the  fide  of  an  arrow  — 

Or  a  fly  on  a  church.  Or  a  mountain  and  nmufc, 

Or  a  pifmire  that  craw's  by  'lie  fide  of  a  houfe  : 

Then  talk  nut  of  any  fuch  nonfenfe  to  me, 

Wid  your  confounded  boderum,  buirboodic  liddle  lee. 


BALLAD. 


THAT  all  the  world  is  up  in  amis, 
/.-id  i-ilks  of  nought  but  Delia's  charms, 
That  crowds  of  lovers  near  and  far, 
(  i.,i;.e  all  tu  U-L  thi^  !>la/in^  dar, 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS.  53 

Is  true — who  has  not  heard  on't. 
But  that  flie  all  at  diftance  keeps, 
And  that  her  virtue  never  fieeps — 
I  don't  believe  a  word  on't. 

That  for  one  lover  had  {he  ten, 

In  lltort,  did  fhe  from  all  the  men 

Her  homage  due  each  day  receive, 

She  has  good  fenfe,  and,  I  believe, 

Would  never  grow  abfurd  on't  : 

But  for  foft  dalliance  fhe'd  refufe 

Some  favourite  from  the  rrowd  to  chufe-— 

I  don't  believe  a  word  on't. 

That  in  the  face  of  ftanders-by 

She's  modefty  itfelf's  no  lie  ; 

That  then  were  men  rnde  things  to  fay, 

"Twould  anger  her — oh  I  would  lay 

A  bottle  and  a  bird  on't  : 

But  to  her  bedchamber,  d'ye  fee, 

That  Betty  has  no  private  key 

I  don't  believe  a  word  on't. 


BALLAD. 


i  Thought  we  were  fiddle  and  bow, 

So  well  \va  in  concert  kept  time, 
But,  to  ftrikc  up  a  part  bafe  and  lo\v, 

Without  either  reafon  or  rhime  : 
What  a  natural  was  I  fo  foon 

With  pleafure  to-quaver  away  ! 
For  I'm  humm'd,    I  think,  now  to  fonie  tune}. 

She  has  left  me  the  piper  to  pay. 

I  plainly  perceJve  flic's  in  glee, 

And  thinks  I  ilialL  be  fuch  a  flat 
As  to  {hake,  but  flic's  in  a  wrong  key, 

For  {he  never  fliail  catch  rne  at  that. 
Whoe'er  to  tha  crotches  of  love 

Lets  his  heart  dance  a,  jig  in  his  bread, 
'Twill  a  bar  to  his  haopinefs  prove, 

And  fhall.  furely  deprive  him  of  reft. 
Ea 


54         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 


BALLAD. 

I  fmg  of  a  war  fct  on  foot  for  a  toy, 
And  of  Paris,  and  Helen,  and  HeO-tor,  and  Troy, 
Where  oil  women,  kings,  gen'rals,  and  coolers  you  fhimble, 
And  of  mortals  and  gods  meet  a  very  ftrange  jumble, 
Sing  diddcroo  bubberoo,  oh  my  joy, 
How  i'weetly  they  did  one  another  deftroy  f 
Come,  (ill  up  your  bumpers,  the  whifky  enjoy, 
May  we  nt'er  lee  the  like  of  the  fiege  of  Troy  ! 
ivfenelaus  was  happy  wid  Helen  his   wife, 
Except  that  ilie  led  him  a  devil  of  a  life, 
WiJ  d*t  handl'omc  tale  Paris  flie'd  toy  »nd  flie'd  p'ay, 
Till  they  pack'd  up  their  alls,  and  they  both  ran  away. 
Sing  didderoo,  &c« 

Agamemnon,  and  all  the  great  chiefs  of  his  houfe, 
Soon  took  u:>  thecaufeof  this  hornified  fpoufe, 
V/hiie  Juno  laid  this  thing,  and  Venus  faid  that, 
And  the  gods  fell  a  wrangling  they  knew  not  for  what. 

Sing  didderoo,  &c. 

Oh  den  fiich  a  (laughter,  and  cutting  of  trotes, 
Aiul  (laying  of  bullocksyand  offering  up  goats  ! 
Till  the  cunning  Ulyfiei,  the  Trojans  to  crols, 
C.'apt  forty  tine  fellows  in  out  wooden  horle. 

Sing  didderoo,   &.c. 

Oh  den  for  to  iuc  fhe  maids,  widows,  and  wives, 
Cry  in  j  Tome  for  their  virtue,  and  ibme  for  tiieir  lives  ^ 
Thus  after  ten  years  they'd  defended  their  town, 
Poor  dear  Troy  in  ten  minutes  was  all  burnt  clown  ! 
Sing  didderoo,  &c. 

But  to  fee  how  it  cndcd's  the  Ueft  joke  cf  all, 
Scarce   had  wrong'd  Menclaui  aicended  the  wall, 
Bat  he  blubb'ring  law  Helen,  and,  oh  flrange  to  tel^ 
'1'he  nian  took  his  mart,   and  fo  all  was  wed. 
ijing  diuderop,  &c. 


BALLAD. 


1  Sing  UiyfTes.  and  thofe  chiefs 
Who,  oat  cf  near  a  million., 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

So  luckily  their  bacon  fav'd 

Before  the  walls  of  Ilion. 
Yankee  doodle  doodle  doo, 

Black  negro  he  get  fumbo, 
And  when  you  come  to  our  town. 

Well  make  you  drunk  with  bumbo- 

Who  having  taken,  fack'd,  and  burnt, 

That  very  firfl  of  cities, 
Return'd  in  triumph,  while  the  bards 

All  rtruck  up  amorous  ditties. 
Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

The  Cyclops  firft  we  vifitcd, 

Ulylles  made  him  cry  out, 
For  lie  e.it  his  mutton,  drunk  his  wine, 

And  then  lie  pok'd  his  eye  out. 
Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

From  thence  we  vent  to  Circe's  land, 

Who  faith  a  girl  of  fpunk  is,       ' 
For  fhe  made  as  drunk,  and  chang'd  us  all 

To  affes,  goats,  and  moukits. 

Yankee  doodle,  <Scc. 
Aud  then  to  hell  and  back  again, 

Then  where  the  Syrens  Cara, 
-S\ve!l  cadence,  trill,  and  fliakej  almoft 

As  well  as  Madam  Mara. 
Yankee  doodle,   &c. 

To  fell  Charibdis  next',   and  then 
Where  yawning  Scylla  grapple* 

Six  men  at  once,  and  eats  them  ail, 
Juft  like  fo  many  apples. 
Yankee  doodl«,  &c 

Fiom  thence  to  where  Apollo's  bull* 
^\nd  Ihetp  ail  play  and  Hip  ib, 

From  whence  UlviTes  went  alone 
To  the  Iflaiid  of  Calypfo. 
Yankee  doodle,    #c. 

And  there  he  kifs'd,  and  toy'd,  and  p'2y'tfj 

'  1  i>  true  upon  my  life  lir, 
Tiil,  having  turn'd  his  nn'ftrefi  oil", 

tic'i  coining  tn  his  wife  fir. 
Yankee  doodk  x  &c, 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 
-••«£>  <S=5>=S>'» 

GLEE. 


WE,  on  the  prefent  hour  relying, 

Think  not  of  future,  nor  of  paft, 
But  feize  each  moment  as  'tis  flying, 

Perhaps  the  next  may  lie  our  laft. 
Perhaps  old  Charon,  at  his  wherry,. 

This  moment  waits  to  waft  us  o'er; 
Then  charge  your  glafles,  and  he  merry, 

For  fear  we  ne'er  fliould  charge  them  more. 
With  brow  auftere,  and  head  reclining, 

Let  envy,  age,  and  haggard  care 
Grow  four,  and  at  our  joy  repining, 

Blai-ie  pleafures  which  they  cannot  fhare. 
Put  round  the  glafies,  and  he  jolly, 

in  fpight  of  all  fuch  idle  fluff, 
Whether  'tis  wifdom  or  'tis  folly, 

"I  '.s  pleafure  boys,  and;  that's  enough. 


BALLAD. 

I'VE  made  to  marshes  Mars  defcend, 
Juftice  in  jigs  her  fcales  fufpend, 
iiagicians  in  gavots  portend, 

And  Furies  black  wigs  briflle: 
To  prefros  Pa' las  Mgis'  blaze, 
Snakes  twifl  to  fugues  a  thoufand  xrays, 
And  Jove  whole  towns  with  lightning  razs. 

At  found  of  the  prompters  whiltle. 
I've  made  a  fun  cf  polifli'd.  tin, 
Dragons  of  wood,  with  ghaftlygrin, 
A  iv.nvas  ft.a,  the  which  within 

Did  leather  Dolphins  caper  ; 
I've  (trtmg  with  packthread  Orpheus'  lyre, 
Made  fheep  and  oxen  ciance  with  wire, 
And  have  deflroycd,  with  painted  fire, 

Grand  tempksof  cartridge  paper. 
I've  made  a  fwain,  his  love  aflecp, 
Chide  warbling  birds  and  b'eating  flieep, 
While  he  himfclf  did  bawling  keep, 

Like  boatman  at  a  ferry  •„ 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

I've  racks  made  that  ne  blood  could  fpill, 
Foul  poii'on  that  could  do  no  ill, 
-A'id  daggers  queens  and  princes  kill, 
Who  are  alive  and  merry. 


BALLAD. 

WHEN  laft  from  the  frraights  we  had  fairljr  cart  anchor, 

I  went,  benny  Kitty  to  hail, 
Witli  quintables  ftor'd,  for  our  voyage  was  a  fpanker, 

And  bran  new  was  every  fail  : 
Eat  I  knew  well  enough  how,  with  words  fweet  as  honey* 

They  trick  us  poor  tars  of  our  gold, 
And  when  the  fly  gipfies  have  finger'd  the  money, 

The  bag  they  poor  Jack  give  to  hold. 
So  I  chafed  her,  d'ye  fee,  my  lads,  under  falfe  colours, 

Swore  my  riches  were  all  at  arj  end, 
That  I'd  fported  away  all  my  good-looking  dollars, 

And  ben  ow'd  my  togs  of  a  friend  : 
Oil  then  had  you  feen  her,  no  longer  my  honey, 

'Twas  varler,  audacious  and  bold, 
Begone  from  my  fight  —  now  you've  fpent  all  your  money 

for  Kitty  the  bag  you  may  hold. 
With  that  I  took  out  double  handfuls  of  fhineri, 

And  fcorut'uily  bid  her  good  bye, 

'Twould  have  cone  your  heart  good  had  yeu  then  fcen  her 
fine  airs, 

How  (he'd  leer,  and  fhe'd  fob,  and  fhe'd  figh  ; 
But  I  flood  well  the  broadfide,  while  jewel  and  honey 

Shecall'd  me,  I  put  up  the  gold, 
And  bearing  away,  as  1  fack'd  all  the  nonry, 

Left  the  bag  for  Ma'am  Kitty  to  hold. 


BALLAD INTENDED    FOR  THE    QUAKER. 


THOU  man  of  firmnefs  turn  this  way. 
Nor  time  by  abfence  me*fure, 

The  fportivc  dance,  the  fprightly  lay 
Shall  wake  thee  into  plcafure  : 

Spite  of  thy  formal  outward  man, 
Tliou'rt  gay,  a*  -we  fli^ll  prove  thcc; 


58         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Then  cheer  thec,  laugh  away  thyfpan, 

And  let  the  fpirit  move  thee, 
None  are  more  juft,  more  true,  more  fair, 

More  upright  in  their  dealings, 
Than  men  of  thy  profcfTion  .xrc", 

But  are  they  without  feelings  ? 
E'en  now  I  know  thy  hone  ft  heart 

Full  ibrely  doth  reprove  thee; 
&f  giy  then,  in  our  joy  take  parr, 

And  let  the  fpirit  move  thee. 


BALLAD. 


IN  Paris,  as  in  London, 
Vice  thrives,  and  virtue's  undone  ; 
Errors,  paflions,  want  of  truth, 
Folly,  in  age  as  well  as  youth, 

Are  things  by  no  means  rare, 
Eut  honefi  ufurers,  friends  fincere, 
And  judges  with  their  confcience  clear, 

C'eft  qu'on  ne  voit  guere. 
In  Paris  All  things  vary, 
'  Sixteen  and  fixty  marry  ; 
lien  prefuming  on  their  purfe, 
Heirs  with  their  e  Rates  at  nurfe, 

Are  things  by  no  means  rare  : 
Eut  doctors  who  refufe  a  fee, 
And  wives  and  hufbands  who  agree, 

C'eft  qu'on  ne  voit  guere. 
In  Paris  idle  pafiion 
And  folly  lead  the  faflhion  ; 
Attention  paid  to  ihew  and  drefs, 
Modeft  merit-in  diflrtfs, 

Are  things  by  no  means  rare  : 
But  friendthip  in  farcaftic  fnecrs, 
And  honefly  in  widow's  te?rs, 

C'eft  qu'on  ne  voit  guere. 


BALLAD. 

JEHOLD  the  fairies'  jocund  band, 
Who  firm,  though  low  of  ftature, 


BIBDIN  S   SELECTED   SONGS. 

'Gain  ft  giant  vice  fha'l  make  a  fland, 
Pourtraying  human  nature, 

We've  chara  Tiers  of  every  mould, 

AH  tempers,  ibrms,  and  llzcs, 
The  grave,  the  gay,  the  young,  the  old> 

Hid  under  quaint  difguifes. 

Then  hey  for  the  fairies,   &c, 

We  have  a  prieft  who  never  fwears, 

But  who  is  always  ready 
With  money,  or  advice,  or  prayers, 

To  help  the  poor  and  needy. 

Then  hey  for  the  fairies,  &c. 
A  man  and  wife,  who  both  on  crutch 

Arc  now  obliged  to  hobble, 
Who  fifty  years,  or  near  as  much, 

Have  never  had  a  fquabble, 

Then  hey  for  the  fairies,  &c. 
A  magiftrate  upright  and  wife, 

To  whom  no  bribe  is  given, 
And  who  before  two  charming  eyes 

Can  hold  the  balance  even. 

Then  hey  for  the  fairies,    &c. 
A  Icarn'd  phyfician  of  great  fkill, 

All  curts,  .like  Galen,  pat  in, 
Who  never  docs  his  patients  kill, 

Take  fees,  or  jabbers  latin. 

Then  hey  for  the  fairies,  &c. 
A  country  fquire  who  hates  the  fmell 

Of  Stingo  and  October, 
A  modern  poet  who  can  fpell, 

And  a  mulician  fober. 

Then  hey  for  the  fairies,  &c. 
Away  then,  comrades,  beat  to  arms, 

Difplay  your  fportful  banners, 
Strike  hard  at  vice,  explore  falfe  charms, 

And  catch  the  living  manners. 
Then  hey  for  the  fairies,  &c. 


BALLAD. 


CHAIRS  to  mend,  oid  chairs  to  mend. 

Like  mins  to  botch  is  each  man's  fate, 
Each  toils  in  his  vocation — 


60         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

One  man  tinkers  up  the  ftate, 

Another  mends  the  nation. 
Your  parfons  preach  to  mend  the  heart, 

They  cobble  heads  at  college  ; 
Phyficians  patch  with  terms  of  art 

And  latin  want  of  knowledge. 
But  none  for  praife  can  more  contend 
Than  I, 
Who  cry 

Old  chairs  to  mend. 
Your  lawyer's  tools  are  flaws  and  pleas; 

They  manners  mend  by  dancing; 
Wigs  are  patches  for  degrees, 

And  lovers  ufe  romancing  : 
fortunes  are  mended  up  and  made, 

Too  frequently,  with  places  — 
With  rouge,  when  their  complexions  fade, 

Some  ladies  mend  their  faces. 
But  none  for  praife,  &c. 


BALLAD, 


A  Tinker  T  am, 

Mv  name's  Natty  Sam, 
From  morn  to  night  I  trudge  it ; 

So  low  is  my  fate, 

My  perfonal  eftate 
Lies  all  within  this  budget. 
Work  for  the  tinker  ho,  good  wives, 

For  they  are  lads  of  mettle — 
Twere  well  if  you  could  mend  your  lives, 
A*  I  can  mend  a  kettle. 

The  man  of  war 

The  man  of  the  b»r, 
Phyficians,  priefts,  free-thinker?, 

That  rove  up  and  down 

Great  London  town, 
What  are  they  all  but  tinkers  ? 

Work  for  the  tinker,  &c. 

Thofe  'mong  the  great 
Who  tiaker  the  ftatc> 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         61 

And  badger  the  minority, 

Pray  what's  the  end 

Of  cheir  work,  my  friend, 
But  to  rivet  a  good  majority  ? 

Work  tor  the  tinker,  &c, 

This  mends  his  name, 

That  cobbles  his  fame, 
That  tinkers  his  reputation  : 

And  thus,  had  I  time, 

I  could  prove  in  my  rhyme, 
Jolly  tinkers  of  all  the  nation. 

Work  for  the  tinker,  &c. 


BALLAD. 


ART  one  of  thofe  mad  wags,  whofe.  brain 
Intruder  reafon  can't  contain, 
Who  are  of  fuch  unruly  minds, 
They  bufftt  waves,  and  fplit  the  winds ; 
In  blanket  robe,   and  crown  of  ftraw, 
Who  to  mad  fubjeCts  deal  mad  law  ? 
If  this  'tis  makes  thy  boibm  fwtll, 
Hie  demoniac  to  thy  cell. 
Or  art  thou  drunk — a  frenzy  too, 
One  of  that  hair-brain'd,  noify  crew, 
Who  vigils  keep  at  Bacchus'  ihrine, 
And  drown  good  reafon  in  bad  wine  ? 
Every  deiire  in  life  who  think 
Gompris'd  in  adetire  to  drink! 
If  by  this  demon  thou'rt  poll  t  ft, 
Hie  the  good  drunkard  home  to  reft. 
Or  art  in  love,   and  fo  gone  mad  ? 
Doft  go  with  folded  arms  ?  art  fad  ? 
Do  ft  iigh  ?  doft  languifh  ?  doft  play  pranks  ? 
For  which  contempt  is  all  thy  thanks  ? 
Doft  pant  ?  doft  long  for  fome  frail  charms, 
Devoted  to  another's  arms? 
Is  this  thy  madnefs,  flupid  tlf  ? 
Hie  thee  away  and  hangthyftlf. 
F 


62         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

...?>....<>..<•*><•£>  ^sg....^.  .„<>... 
BALLAD IN    CLUMP   AND   CUDDEN'. 


WHEN  in  order  drawn  up,  and  adorn'd  in  his  heft, 
If  my  fuldier  appears  with  more  grace  than  the  reft, 
If  his  gaiters  are  jet,  his  accoutrements  fine, 
If  his  hair's  tied  up  tight,  and  his  arms  brightly  fliinc, 
Let  him  turn,  wheel,  or  face,  march,  kneel,  (loop,  or  ftand, 
Anxious  fiill  to  oliey  every  word  of  command; 
ErecT:  like  an  arrow,  or  bending  his  knee, 
'Tis  not  for  the  general,  'tis  all  to  pleafe  me. 
If  with  fmoak  and  with  duft  cover  'd  over  by  turns, 
To  gain  a  fliam  height,  or  falfe  baftion,  he  burns; 
If,  of  danger  in  fpight,  and  regardltfs  of  fear, 
He  rufhes  to  fight  when  there's  nobody  near: 
In  fhortj  let  him  turn,  £c. 


BALLAD  —  IN   CLUMP  AND  CUDDEN. 


A  Novice  in  love,  anti  a  fl ranger  to  art, 

As  pure  as  my  wiihes  my  unpractis'd  heart; 

\\'hui  I  n^i'e  \vith   the  lark,  and  out- warbled  the  thrufli, 

Free  i'n  m  falfliood  or  guile,  for  I  knew  not  to  blufh  : 

Thofe  paft  days  I  deplore. 
.  innocence  guarded  my  unfullicd  fame, 
V.  iicn  to  th.ink,  and  to  act,  and  commend  were  the  linnt1  j 

When  on  my  face, 

In  artlefs  grace, 

Danc'd  frolic  fport  and  pleafure — now  no  more. 
Ere  I  Hflen'd  and  iov'd,  ere  man  fmil'd,  and  betray'd, 
Ere  by  horror  appali'd,  and  of  confcience  afraid; 
I, oft  to  each  fond  delight  that  e'er  woman  adorn'd, 
i>y  a  hard  judging  world  look'd  at,  pity'd,  and  fcorn'd, 

'I'hoie  part  joys  i  clcph.re  : 

Th(>fe  jovs,  ere  by  man's  artful  treachery  forfook, 
Whii/h,  guilolefs  and  pleai'ecl,  with  the  world  1  partook: 

Vv  hen  on  my  face, 
.  'i  art'efs  grace, 
.Dar.c'J  frolic  fport  and  pleafure — now  no  more. 


DJBDIN'S   SELECTED   SONGS.        63 

...<>••  ••<*"  <S^<S^<5S>—<>"  ••«  — 
DUET- IN   CLUMP    AND   CUDDEN. 


PLA ICON. 

SAY  Fanny,  wilt  thou  go  \\iih  me? 
Perils  to  (ace,  by  land  and  ica, 

That  tongue  can  neve;  tell  ye  ? 
And  wilt  thou  all  thefe  dangers  Icoru, 
Whilft  in  thefe  arms 
1  hold  thy  charms, 
Enraptur'd  tv'ry  opening  morn, 
When  the  drum  beats  reveille*:. 

FANNY. 

Yes,  yes,  Platoon — I'll  go  with  thee 
In  danger,  whatfoe'er  it  be — 
i'eiievc  'tis  truth  I  tell  you  : 
My  conftant  mind  fhall  peril  fcorn, 
Brave  all  alarms, 
So  in  my  arms 

I  hold  thee  every  opening  morn, 
When  the  drum  beats  leveillez. 

PLATOON. 

Rtill  Fanny  wilt  thou  go  with  mfr? 
Suppofe  the  cruel  fates  decree, 

Alas  how  fh<Ul  I  tell  you  ? 
The  news  fhould  come — thy  foldier  fell, 
And  thou  fhaU  hear, 
Appall'd  with  fear, 
Next  morning  his  fatal  piffing  bell, 
When  tht  drum  beats  reveiikz. 


Still  fenrlefs  will  I  go  with  thee, . 
Refign'd  to  cruel  fate's  decree) 
And  bravely  this  I  tel!  you  : 
When  on  the  foot  my  foldier  fell 
I'd  Hied  a  tear, 
The  world  {Tumid  hear, 
Mingling  with  his,  my  parting  beli, 
When  the  drum  beats  reveillezi 

BOTH. 

To  the  world's  end  I'd  go  with  thee, 
Where  thou  art,  danger  ne'er  can  be; 
Iff  joy  no  tongue  can  tell  ye; 


SIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

And  fure  fuch  love  may  perils  fcorn; 

Ernve  ail  alarms, 

"While  in  my  arms 
1  hold  due  every  op'ning  morn, 
Wiicii  the  drum  beats  rcvtilkz. 


NOSEGAYS  I  cry,  and,  though  little  you  pay, 
They  Are  fucii  as  you  cannot  get  every  clay. 
Who'll  buy,?  v.'ho'll  buy  ?—  'tis  ndfcgaygl  cry. 
Who'll  buy  ?  who'll  buy  ?  —  'tis  nolegays  I  cry". 
Each  mincing,  ambling,   l.'fping  blade, 

'Who  fmiles,  and  talks  of  bliffeg 
Ke  never  felr,  is  here  portray  M 
Jn  form  ofa  Narciffcs. 

Ncfegays  I  cry,  &c. 
Statefmen,  like  Indian?,  \vhoadtre 

The  fun,  by  courting  power, 
Cannot  be  fliewn  their  likentfs  more 
Than  in  th'  humble  fun-f!o\ver. 

Nofegays  1  cry,  £c. 
Pods  I've  here  in  fprigs  of  bays, 
Devils  in  the  bufli  are  friars'; 

.  s  are  critic?,  who  damn  play?, 
And  fatirifts  are  briars. 

Nofegays  I  cry,   &c. 

BALLAD  —  IN     TOM    TKUM&. 


THE  yoimker,  who  his  firll  c-ffay 

Makes  in  the  front  of   battle. 
Stands  all  a(rha(t,  while  cohorns  play. 

And  bulicts  round  him  rattle 
fir  piidc  fleps  in,  and  now  no  more 

•  Fell  fear  his  jav'liu  lances, 
Like  dulcet  flutes  the  cannons  ro;ir, 

And  groans  turn  country  dance- 
So  frights,  and  flurries,  and  what  not- 

\"p,;n  my  fancy  rufhcs, 
1  lesr  I  know  m.t  why  or  what, 

I'm  cover'd  o'er  with  blufllCS, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         65 

But  let  the  honey  feafon  fly, 

To  feconcl  well  my  clapper, 
The  kitchen's  whole  artillery 

Shall  grace  my  hu (band's  iiapper. 

BALLAD IN   THE  WHIM   OF   THE  MOMENT. 


'TIS  faid  we  venturous  die-hards,  when  we  leave  the  fhore. 
Our  friends  fhould  mourn, 
Left  we  return 
To  blefs  their  fight  no  more  : 
But  this  is  all  a  notion 

Bold  Jack  can't  underftand. 
Some  die  upon  the  ocean, 
And  fome  on  the  land  : 
Then  fince  'tis  clear, 
Howe'er  we  fteer, 
No  man's  life's  under  his  command. 
Let  tempefh  howl, 
And  billows  roll, 
And  dangers  prefs  : 
Of  thofe  in  fpight,  there  are  fome  joys 

Us  jolly  tars  to  blefs, 
For  Saturday  night  (till  comes  my  boy?, 
To  drink  to  Poll  and  Befs. 

One  feaman  hands  the  fail,  another  heaves  the  logj- 
The  purfer  fwops 
Our  pay  for  flops, 
The  landlord  fells  us  grog  ; 
Then  each  man  to  his  ftation, 
To  keep  life's  fhip  in  trim. 
What  argufies  noration  ? 
The  reft  is  all  a  whim  ; 
Cheerly.my  hearts, 
Then  play  your  part?, 
Boldly  refolved  to  fink  or  fwim ;. 
The  mighty  furge 
May  ruin  urge, 
Of  thofe  in  fpigbt,  &c. 

For  all  the  world  juft  like  the  ropes  aboard  a  fhip, 
Each  man's  rigg'd  out 
A  vcffel  flout, 
To  take  for  life  a  trip  : 

Fz 


66         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

The  fhrouds,  the  flays,  and  braces 
Are  joys,  and  hopes,  and  fears, 
The  halliards,  fhects  and  traces, 
Scill,  as  each  pallion  veers, 
And  whim  prevails, 
Direct  the  fails. 
As  on  the  fea  of  life  lie  fleers  : 
Then  let  the  ftorm 
Heaven's  face  deform, 
And  danger  prefs  : 

Of  thofe  in  fpight,  &c. 


BALLAD  -  IN  THE    WHIM  OF   THE    MOMENT. 


THE  grey-ey'd  Aurora,  in  iaffron  array, 

"Fvvixt  my  curtains  in  vain  took  a  peep, 
And  though  broader  and  broader  ftill  brightened  the  day, 

Nought  could  wake  me,  fo  found  did  I  fleep. 
At  length  rofy  Phoebus  look'd  full  in  my  face, 

Full  and  fervent  but  nothing  would  do, 
Till  the  dogs  yelp'd  impatient,  and  long'd  for  the  chafe, 

And  fhouting  appear'd  the  whole  crew. 
Come  on,  yoics  honics,  hark  forward  my  boys. 

There  ne'er  was  fo  charming  a  moru, 
Follow,  follow,  wake  Echo,  to  fhare  in  our  joys — 

Now  the  rrnific,  now  echo — mark!  mark  ! 

Hark!  hark! 

The  filver-mnuth'd  hounds,  and  the  mellow  ton'd  horn. 
Frefh  as  that  fmiling  morn  from  which  they  drew  breath, 

My  companions  are  rang'd  on  the  plain, 
Blefk  with  rofy  contentment,  that  nature's  beft  wealth, 

Which  monarchs  afpire  to  in  vain  : 
Now  fpirits  like  fire  every  bofotn  invade, 

And  now  we  in  order  let  out, 
While  each   neighb'nng  valley,  rock,  woodland,  and  glade. 

jic-vo  lies  the  air-rending  fhout. 

Come  on,  &c. 
Now  re  nerd's  unearth'cl,  and  runs  fair1.}'  in  view, 

Now  we've  loft  him  fo  fubtily  he  turns, 
But  the  fcent  lies  fo  ftrong,  fhll  we  fcailefa  purfue, 

While  each  object  impatiently  burns  : 
Hark  !  Eallcr  gives  tcnpue,  and  Fleet,  Driver,  and  Sly, 

The  fox  now  the  covert  forfakes, 
Again  1  e's  in  view,  let  us  after  him  fly, 

JSow,  now  to  the  river  he  takes. 
Come  on,  &c. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         67 

From  the  river  poor  renard  can  make  but  one  pufli, 

No  longer  fo  proudly  he  flics, 
Tir'd,  jaded,  worn  out,  we  are  clofe  to  his  brufli, 

And  conqer'd,  like  Caefar,  he  dies. 
And  now  in  high  glee  to  board  we  repair, 

Where  fat,  as  we  jovially  quaff, 
pjis  portion  of  merit  let  every  man  fbare, 

And  promote  the  convivial  laugh. 
Come  on,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN    THE   WHIM   OF   THE  MOMENT. 


FROM  prudence  let  my  joys  take  birth, 

Let  me  not  he  paffion's  flave, 
Approv'd  by  reafon,  fweet's  the  mirth, 

Vice  of  pleafure  is  the  grave. 
Then  fliil  to  reafon''  dictates  true, 

Select  tin.  f\vccj.    .  i  life  like  bees; 
Thus  your  e-joy'.ner.ts  will  be  ftiv 

But  fuch  as  on  reflection  pleafe. 
Wine  exhilirates  the  foul, 

Infpires  the  mirth  of  every  feaft, 
But  gluttons  fo  may  drain  the  bow  I, 

Till  man  degenerates  to  beaft  : 
Then  miith  and  \vifdom  keep  in  view, 

And  freely  on  the  bottle  feize  ; 
What  though  your  pleafures  are  but  few  ! 

They're  fuch  a>  on,  reflection  pltafe. 
Love  the  fourcc  of  human  jo\s, 

The  mind  with  hlifs  that  fweetly  fills, 
Too  often  its  own  end  deftroys, 

And  proves  the  fource  of  human  ills. 
Here  reafon's  dictates  keep  in  view, 

Or,  farewell  freedom,  farewell  cafe, 
The  real  joys  of  life  are  few 

But  fuch  ai  on  reflection  pleafe. 
Then  while  we  meet,  let's  only  own 

Joys  that  do  honor  to  the  heart, 
And  ceafing  to  prize  thefe  alone. 

Deplore  our  frailty,    fijjh,  and  part ; 
Meanwhile  to  rtafon's  t'klates  true, 

Select  the  fwcets  of  life  like  bees, 
Tlius  your  enjoyments  will  be  few 

Eut  inch  as  on  reflection  pleafe. 


6$         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS* 

..«>...  »..<>••  <S3><S><SS>  ••<>•••••<>" 
BALLAD — IN   THE  WHIM  OF  THE  MOMENT 


THE  fpangled  green  confefs'd  the  morn, 

The  rofe  bud  dropt  a  tear, 
And  liquid  prifms  bedeck'd  the  thorn, 

When  Sandy  fought  his  dear  : 
Sure  never  loon  was  e'er  fo  crofs'd— 

Ye  fliepherds  fwains  impart, 
Where  did  fhe  gang  ?  ah  me !   I've  loft 

The  laffy  of  my  heart. 
Her  charms  are  felt  as  foon  as  kenn'd, 

Eyne  bright  as  brilliant  gem, 
But  of  her  beauties  there's  no  end, 

Why  need  I  talk  of  them  ? 
Each  fhepherd  fwain  finds,  to  his  coft, 

What  power  they  can  impart, 
But  mod  poor  Sandy,  who  has  loft 

The  laffy  of  his  heart. 

But  mine's  the  fault,  and  mine's  the  grief, 

How  could  I  raflily  dare  ! 
Oh  I  have  finn'd  beyond  relief, 

'Gainft  all  that's  fweet  and  rare: 

But  fee,  fhe  comes !  ceafe  heart  to  bound. 

Some  comfort  ah  impart  ? 
She  fmiles !  ah  fhepherds  I  have  found 

The  laffy  of  my  heart ! 


1ALLAD — -IN    THE    WHIM  OF  THE  MOMENT, 


OF  all  fenfatiens  pity  brings. 

To  proudly  fwell  the  ample  heart, 

From  which  the  willing  forrow  fpriugs, 

In  others  grief  that  bear  a  part. 

Of  all  fad  fympathy's  delights, 

The  manly  dignity  of  grief 

A  joy  in  mourning  that  excites, 

And  gives  the  anxious  mind  relief: 

Of  thefe  would  you  the  feeling  know,  . 

Moft  gen'rous,  coble,  greatly  brave,- 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         69 

That  ever  taught  a  heart  to  glow, 

'Tis  the  tear  that  bedews  a  foidier's  grave. 

For  hard  and  painful  is  his  lot, 

Let  dangers  come  he  braves  them  all; 

Valiant  perhaps  to  be  forgot, 

Or  undijftinguifh'd  doom'u  to  fall : 

Yet  wrapt  in  confcious  worth  fecure, 

The  world,  that  now  forgets  his  toil, 

He  views  from  a  retreat  obfcure, 

And  quits  it  with  a  willing  fmile. 

Then  trar'lcr  one  kind  drop  beftow, 

'Twere  graceful  pity,  nobly  brave  ; 

Nought  ever  taught  the  heart  to  gl  nv 

Like  the  tear  that  hedtws  a  foidier's  grave. 

BALLAD IN   THE  WHIM   OF    THE  MOMENT. 


GO  patter  to  lubbers  and  fvvabs  d'ye  fee 

'Bout  danger,  and  fear,  and  the  like, 
A  tight  water  boat  and  good  IVa-room  give  me, 

And  t'ent  to  a  little  I'll  flrike; 

Though  the  tempcfts  top  gallant  mafts  fmack  fmooth  fhould 
finite, 

And  fliiver  each  fplinter  of  wood, 
Clear  the  wreck,  flow  the  yards,  and  bouze  every  thing  tight, 

And  under  rtef'd  forefail  we'll  feud: 
Avaft !  nor  don't  think  me   a  milk-fop  fo  foft 

To  be  taken  for  trifle?,  aback, 
For  they  fays  there's  a  providence  fits  up  aloft 

To  keep  watch  for  the  life  of  poor  Jack. 
Why  1  heard  the  good  chaplain  palaver  one  d.iy 

About  fouls,  heaven,  mtrcy,  and  fuch, 
And,  my  timbers,  what  lingo  he'd  coil  and  belay, 

Why.  'twas  jiili  all  as  one  as  high  Dutch  : 
But  he  faid  how  a  fjjarrovv  can't  founder  d'ye  fee, 

Without  orders  that  comes  down  below, 
And  many  fine  things  that  piov'd  clearly  to  me 

That  providence  takes  us  in  tow  ; 
For,  fay*  he,  do  you  mind  me,  let  florins  e'er  fo  oft 

Take  the  top-fails  of  failors  aback, 
There's  a  fweet  •iittie  cherub  that  fits  up  ?loft, 

To  keep  v/,<tch  for  the  life  of  poor  Jick. 


70          DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS. 

I  faid  to  our  I'ol!,  for  you  fee  flie  would  cry, 

When  laft  \ve  weigh'd  anchor  for  fea, 
"W  hat  ar£iifi;s  fniv'ting,  an<l  piping  your  eye, 

Why  what  a  damn'd  fool  you  muft  be! 
Can't  you  fee  the  world's  '.vide,  and  there's  room  for  us  all, 

Both  for  fcamcn  and  lubbers  afhon  , 
And  if  to  o'd  Davy  I  Humid  go,  friend  Poll, 

Why  you  never  will  hear  oi  me  more  : 
What  then,  all's  a  hazard,  come  don't  be  fo  foft, 

Perhaps  I  may  laughing  come  back, 
For  d'ye  fee  there's  a  cherub  fit  fmiling  aloft, 

To  keep  watch  for  the  life  of  poor  Jack. 
D'ye  mind  me  a  failor  fhould  be  every  inch 

All  as  one  as  a  piece  of  tht  fliip, 
And  with  her  brave  the  world  \\ithout  offering  to  flinch, 

From  the  moment  the  anchor's  a  trip. 
As  for  me,  in  all  weathers,  all  times,  fides,  and  ends, 

Xouglu's  a  trouble  from  duty  that  fprings, 
For  my  heart  is  my  Poll's,  and  my  Rhino's  my  friend's, 

And  as  for  my  life  'tis  the  king's  ; 
Even  when  my  time  comes,  ne'er  believe  me  fo  foft 

As  for  grief  to  be  taken  aback,    , 
That  fame  little  cherub  that  fits  up  aloft 

Will  lookout  a  good  birth  for  poor  Jack. 

BALLAD  —  IN    THE   WHIM  OF  THE   MOMENT. 


WHAT  though  from  Venus  Cupid  fprung, 

No  attribute  divine 

— Whate'er  the  bawling  bards  have  fung — 
Mad  he,  his  bow  till  Bacchus  ftrtmg, 

And  dipp'd  his  darts  in  wine  : 
Till  old  Si'enus  plung'd  the  boy 

In  neclar  from  the  vine, 
Then  love,  that  was  before  a  toy. 
Became  the  fource  of  mortal  joy  ; 
The  urchin  (hook  his  dewy  wings, 
And  caxelefs  levelled  clowns  and  kings 

Such  power  has  mighty  wine. 
When  Thefeus  on  the  naked  fiiore 

Fair  Ariadne  left, 

D'ye  think  the  did  her  fate  deplore. 
Or  her  fine  locks  or  bofom  tort-, 

Like  one  of  hope  bereft ; 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         71 

"Xot  fhe  indeed,   her  fleeting  love 

From  mortal  turns  divine, 
And  as  gay  .Bacchus'  tiger*  move, 
Hi.s  car  afcends  amidft  a  grove 
Of  vines,  furrounded  by  a  throng, 
Who  lead  the  jolly  pair  alon^;, 

Almoft  half  gone  with  wine. 
Ma'm  Helen  lov'd  the  Phrygian  bor, 

He  thought  her  all  his  own, 
But  hotted  love  will  fooneft  cloy, 
He  ne'er  had  brought  her  fafe  to  Troy 

But  for  the  wife  of  Thone. 
She,  merry  go/Tip  mixed  a  cup 

Of  tipple,  right  divine, 
To  keep  love's  flagging  fpirits  up, 
And  Helen  drank  it  every  i'up  ; 
This  liquor  is  'mongQ  learned  elves, 
Nepenthe  called,   but  'twixt  ourfelvcs, 

'Twas  nothing  more  than  wine. 
Of  Lethe  and  its  flowery  brink 

.Let  mufty  poets  prtte, 
"*>  1  10  re  thirfly  fouls  arc  faid  to  drink, 
That  never  they  again  may  think 

Upon  their  former.  (late, 
What  is  there  in  this  foullefs  lofs, 

1  pray  you  fo  divine  ? 
Grief  finds  the  palace  and  the  cot, 
Which,  for  a  time,    were  well  forgot  ; 
Come  here  then,  in  our  lethe  fhare, 
The  true  oblivion  of  yoVr  care 
Is  only  found  in  wiuc. 


RONDEAU  -  IN   THE   WHIM  OF   THE   MOMENT. 


SMILING  grog  is  (he  f.iilor's  heft  hope,  his  fheet  anchor, 

His  conipafs,  his  cable,  his  log, 
That  gives  him  a  heart  which  life's  cares  cannot  canker, 

Though  dangers  aroin  d  him 

Unite,  to  confound  him, 
He  braves  them,  and  tips  off  his  grog. 
'Tis  giog,  only  Pro;', 

I»  his  rudder,  his  cc  mpafs,  his  cabl<*,  his  log, 
The  tailor's  flieet  anchor,  is  g.'Og. 


72         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

What  though  he  to  a  friend  in  tiuft 

His  pri/e  money  convey, 
Who  to  his  bond  of  faith  unjuft, 

Cheats  him  and  runs  away  : 
What's  to  be  lone  ?  he  vest*  a  curfe 

'Gainftal!  falfe  hearts  afhore, 
Of  the  remainder  clears  his  purfe, 

And  then  to  fea  for  more. 

There's  fmiling  grog,  &c. 
What  though  his  girl,  who  often  fworc 

To  know  no  other  charms, 
He  find,*,  when  he  returns  afhore, 

Clafn'd  in  a  rival's  arms  : 
What's  to  be  done  ?  he  vents  a  curfe 

And  feeks  a  kinder  fhe, 
Dances,  trets  groggy,  clears  his  purfc, 

And  goes  again  to  fea. 
To  crofles  born,  ftill  trufting  there, 
The  waves  lefs  faithlefs  than  the  fair  ; 
There  into  toils  to  rufli  again, 
And  ftormy  perils  brave — nvhat  then? 
Smiling  grog,  &c. 

BALLAD IN   THE   WHIM   OF  THE  MOMENT. 


YANKO  he  tell,  and  he  no  lie, 

We  near  one  prelty  brook, 
Him  flowing  hair,   him  lovely  yiei 

Sweetly  on  Orra  look  : 
Him  fee  big  world  fine  warrior  men, 

Grand  cruel  king  love  blood  ; 
Great  king !  but  Yanko  fay  what  den 

If  he  no  honcft  good  ? 
Virtue  in  foe  be  virtue  (till, 

Fint  ftone  be  found  in  mine, 
The  fun  one  dale,  as  well  one  hill, 

Make  warm  where'er  him  fhine. 
You  brodtr  him,  him  brodcr  you, 

So  all  the  world  fhould  call, 
For  nature  fay,  and  flic  fay  true, 

That  men  be  broder  all. 
If  cruel  man,  like  tiger  grim, 

Come  bold  in  thirft  of  blood, 
Poor  man  : — be  noble — pity  him, 

That  he  no  honed  good  : 


SELECTED  SONGS.         73 

Virtue  in  foe  be  virtue  fUll, 

Fine  Hone  be  found  in  mine, 
The  fun  one  dale,  as  wtli  one  hill, 

Make  warm  where'er  him  fliine. 

••«>—M>— <S><3><SS>  -«>—..• o» 
BALLAD  —  IN    THE   WHIM  OF  THE   MOMENT. 


I  am  a  joily  fifherman, 

I  catch  what  1  can  get, 
Still  going  Oil  my  betters' plan, 

All's  fifh  that  comes  to  net ; 
riih,  juft  like  men,  I've' often  caught, 

Crabs,  gudgeons,  poor  John,  Codfifh, 
And  many  a  time  to  market  brought, 

A  dev'iifli  ii^ht  of  odd  fifh. 
Thus  all  are  fifliermen  through  life, 

With  weary  pains  and  labour, 
This  baits  with  gold,  and  that  a  wife, 

And  all  to  catch  his  neighbour  ; 
Then  praife  the  jolly  fiilierman, 

Who  takes  what  he  can  get, 
Still  going  on  his  betters'  p  an, 

All's  nib.  that  conies  to  net. 
Then  pike  to  catch  the  little  fry, 

Extends  his  greedy  jaw, 
For  all  the  world  as  you  and  I, 

Have  feen  your  men  of  law  ; 
He  who  to  lazinefs  devotes 

His  time,  is  fure  a  numb  fifh, 
And  members  who  give  filent  votes 

May  fairly  be  called  dumb  fifh  : 
Falfe  friends  to  eels,  we  may  compare, 

The  roach  refembles  true  ones  ! 
Like  gold  fifli  we  find  old  friends  rare, 

Plenty  as  herrings  new  ones. 

Then  praife,   &c. 
Like  fifli  then  mortals  are  a  trade, 

And  trapp'd,  and  fold,  and  bought  ; 
The  old  wife  and  the  tender  maid 

Are  both  with  tickJing  caught ; 
Indeed  the  fair  are  caught,  'tis  faid, 

If  you  but  throw  the  line  in, 
With  maggots,  flies,  or  fomething  red, 
G 


74         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Or  any  tiling  that's  fhining  : 
WHh  finall  filh  you  mult  lie  in  wait 

For  th  fe  of  high  condition, 
But  'tis  alone  a  golden  bait 

Can  catch  a  learn  'd  phyfician. 
Then  praife,   &c. 


SONG  -  IN  THE   WHIM  OF  THE  MOMENT. 


ARM'D  with  jav'lin,  arm'd  with  dart, 
With  mighty  arm  and  fteady  heart, 

We  to  the  battle  go  ; 
Yet,  'ere  we  part, 

We  join  with  all  our  friends  fo  dear, 
And  fervent  adoration  pay 
To  the  bright  orb  that  gave  us  day. 
Then  void  of  fear, 

We  rufh  to  meet  the  foe  : 
Station'd  on  impervious  ground, 
We  watch  their  number  fcatter'd  round  ; 
The  fubilc  ambufh  then  prepare, 
And  fee  they  fall  into  the  fnare^ 
Hid  as  in  the  woods  we  lay, 
They  tread  the  unfufpe&ed  way  ; 
Sudden  and  fierce  from  every  built, 
Upon  the  aftonifh'd  foe  we  rufh, 
Bold  and  refolved  : — and  now  around, 
Hark  !  the  dreadful  war-whoop  found, 
•Confufion,  terror,  and  difmay, 
It  fcatters  as  it  wings  its  way  : 
They  fly  !  confufion  in  their  train, 
'\ndfiaughter  treads  the  fangivne  plain  ! 
Hark  of  our  friends  the  welcome  try, 
Proclaims  for  us  the  victory  ? 
Then  fervent  adoration  pay 
To  the  bright  orb  that  gave  us  day. 
See  the  feftive  train  advance, 
breathe  the  mufic,  lead  the  dance  J 
.Sound  the  cymbals  ! 
Beat  the  tymbals  ! 
Haftc,  in  §!ad  proceffion  come 
To  our  anxious  friends  at  home, 
rtn-  our    reception   who   prepare, 
\VIiilc  acclamations  rend  the  air, 


BIBDIN'S  SELECTED   SONGS.        75 

And  loudly  a  whole   nation   cry, 
Honour,  glory,  viiftory. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  WHIM  OF  THE  MOMENT. 

dE  it  known  to  all  tho'fe  whofoc'er  it  regard?, 
That  we  fingers  of  ballads  were  a;  ways  cail'd  bards; 
And  from  Ida  to  Grub-ftrcet  the  mi:fes  who  follow 
Are  each  mother's  fon  (he  true  fpawn  of  Apollo  : 
Thus  recording  great  men,  or  a  flea,  or  a  ftar, 
Or  the  fpheres,  or  a  jew's-harp,  we're  all  on  a  par; 
Nor  in  this  do  I  tell  you  a  word  of  a  lie, 
For  Homer  fu-ng  ballads  and  fo  do  I. 

Don't  you  know  what  the  rodent's  were  —  great  things  they 

talk'd, 

How  they  rode  upon  Pegafus  —  that's  to  fay,  walk'd  — 
That  near  kindred  gods  they  drove  Phoebus  's  chariot, 
The  Englifh  of  which  is  —  they  Hv'd  in  a  garret  : 
And  thus  they  went  forward,  Diogenes  quaff'  ci, 
Heraclitus  cried,  and  Democritus  laugh'd, 
Menander  made  multitudes  both  laugh  and  cry, 
But  Homer  lung  ballads  and  fodo  I. 
Thus  did  they  ftrange  whimfical  notions  purfue, 
Some  argutd  on  one  leg,  and  fume  upon  two  ; 
To  which  laft  my  pretenfions  ate  not  hypothetic, 
For  'tis  certainly  clear  I'm  a  perapatelic  : 
Lycurgus  and  Solon  'bout  laws  made  a  pother, 
Which  went  in  at  one  ear,  and  then  out  at  t'other, 
Old  fongs  fuch  as  mine  arc-  will  nobody   buy  ? 
Come,  Homer  lung  ballads  and  fo  do  I. 
Hiflorie  was  Pliny,  and  Plato  divine, 
O'.'id  wrote  about  love,  and  Anacreon  wine, 
Great.  Cicero  argued  to  every  man's  palate, 
And  when  he  was  out  —  'twas  a  hole  in  the  ballad  : 
Thus  to  great  men  of  old,  who  have  made  fuch  a  rout, 
My  claim  to  call  coufm  I've  fairly  made  out, 
And  if  any  hereafter  my  right  fbould  deny, 
Teii'  em  Homer  fuug  ballads,  and  fo  do  I. 

BALLAD  —  IN     THE     BY-STANDER. 


Look  fuir'y  all  the  world  around, 
Aij-J,  as  vuu  truth  deliver, 


76        DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

Te!l  me  what  character  is  found 

A  real  favoir  vivrc  ? 
Who  truly  merits  fobcr  fame  — 

To  find  you  need  not  wander, 
None  can  dete&  lire's  i'raudful  gam* 

So  well  as  the  By-  (lander. 
The  Jover  cogs,  and  palms,  and  flips, 

The  cafy  fair  to  buffle, 
And  ftili  to  win  that  Hake  her  lips, 

Will  deal  ai.d  cut,  anil  fliuifle  : 
Still  «'i;l  he  ply  each  fubile  art, 

Tiil  he  has  quite  trapann'd  her, 
And  then  is  fure  to  trump  her  heart, 

If  abfent  the  By-ftandcr. 

Preferment  is  a  bow  ing  green, 

Where,  placed  in  each  petition, 
Bowis  jiift'inj;  in  and  out  are  fecn, 

To  reach  the  Jack  ambition, 
The  bias  int'rcir.  ftill  they  try, 

TwiO,  turn,  and  well  meander, 
Yet  their  manoeuvres,  rub  or  fly, 

Are  known  to  theBy-ftandcr. 

The  law's  a  game  at  whift,  wherein 

The  parties  nine  are  both  in, 
Where  tricks  alone  the  game,  can  win, 

And  honours  go  for  nothing  : 
And  while  they,  a  fure  game  to  nick, 

Their  client's  money  fquander, 
Full  many  more  than  one  odd  trick 

Difcovers  the  By-ltandcr. 

The  coxcomb  plavs  at  fhuttlecock, 

The  wit  commands  and  queftions, 
The  carping  cits  to  commerce  fleck, 

Each  follows  hisiuggeflions. 
Yet  lie  alone  who  merits  fame, 

Who  blunts  the  iliafts  of  (lander, 
And  on  the  fquare  life's  motely  game 

Befl  p'ays  is  the  By-flander. 


BALLAD  —  IN     THE     GRACES. 


AT  firfr.  like  an  infant  appearing, 
V/i:h  neither  his  bow  nor  his  darts, 


DIBDIN  S   SELECTED   SONGS. 

To  his  wiles  we  attend  without  ftaiing, 
Till  he  creeps  by  degrees  to  our  he.ms. 

When  foon  for  our  folly  requited, 
This  gueft  the  ible  matter  we  find, 

Tor  Icarce  to  the  bofom  invited, 
He  lords  it  at  will  o'er  the  mind. 


BALLAD— IN    THE    GRACES. 

SAY,  fluttering  heart, 
Why  after  days  of  fwect  delight, 

Where  confcious  innocence  bore  p.Art, 
Serene  as  fmiling  morn,  peaceful  as  filvcr  night, 
Or  gay  as  gaudy  noon,  when  Phoebus'  beams  fhonc  brigh: 

Say,  how  one  hour, 
One  little  iufhint  could  remove 

That  vacant  carc'efs  joy  ?  what  power 
Indict  the  torments  we  now  prove  ; 
Cynthia  forbid  it  ever  fhould  be  love. 

Dear  goddefs,  for  fair  honour's  fake, 
Relieve  the  torments  we  partake  ! 
Teach  us  to  cure  our  am'rous  fires, 
Or  tlfe  permit  us  our  delires  : 
And  this  with  zealous  care  perform, 
Swift  as  the  wind  that  rules  the  ftorni  ; 
Swift  as  the  glowing  god  of  day 
Darts  froTi  afar  a  downward  ray, 
And  fo  :>iall  vot'rit*  to  thy  praife 
A  thoufand,  thousand  altars  raife. 

BALLAD  —  IN   THE   HONEST   IMPOSTORS. 


THAT  girl  who  fain  would  chufe  a  mate, 

Should  ne'er  in  fondnefs  fail  her, 
May  thank  her  lucky  fturs  if  fate 

Should  fplice  her  to  a  failor, 
lie  braves  the  ftorm,  the  battle's  heat, 

The  yellow  boys  to  nail  her  ; 
Diamonds,  if  diamonds  fhe  could  est,  - 

Would  fcek  her  honed  failor. 
G  s, 


78         DIEDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

If  Ihc'd  be  conftant,  ftill  his  heart 

She's  furs  will  never  fail  her  ; 
For,  though  a  thoufknd  leagues  apart, 

Stiil  faithful  is  her  failor. 

Iffhebefalfe,  Kill  he  is  kind, 

And  abfent  docs  bewail  her, 
Her  trufting  T.S  he  truth  the  wind, 

Still  faithlcfs  to  the  failor. 
A  butcher  can  procure  her  prog, 

Three  threads  to  drink  a  tailor, 
What's  that  to  buifcuit  and  to  grog, 

Procur'd  her  by  her  failor. 
She  who  would  fuch  a  mate  icfufe, 

The  devil  fure  muftaii  her; 
Search  round,  and,  if  your  wife,  you'll  chufe 

To  wed  an  honelr  failor. 


BALLAD  —  IN     THE    ODDITIES. 


'TWAS  in  the  good  fhip  Rover 

I  fail'd  the  world  around, 
And  for  three  years  and  over, 

I  ne'er  touch'd  Britifh  ground  ; 
At  length  in  England  landed, 

I  left  the  roaring  main, 
Found  ail  relations  ftranded, 

And  went  to  fea  again. 
That  time  bound  ftraight  to  Portugal, 

Right  fore  and  aft  we  bore ; 
But  when  we  made  Cape  Ortugal, 

A  gale  blew  off  the  fhore  : 

She  lay,  fo  did  it  fhock  her, 

A  log  upon  the  main, 
Till,  fav'd  from  Davy's  locker, 

We  flood  to  fea  ag;>in. 
Next  in  a  frigate  failing;, 

Upon  a  fqually  nighr, 
Thunder  and  lightning  hailing 

The  horrors  of  the  fight, 
My  precious  limb  was  lopp'd  off, 

I,  when  they'd  eas'd  my  pain, 


DIBDINS  SELECTED    SONGS.  79 

Thank 'd  God  I  was  not  popp'd  off, 

And  went  to  fea  again. 
Yet  ftill  am  I  enabled 

To  bring  up  in  life's  rear, 
Although  I'm  quite  difabled, 

And  lie  in  Greenwich  tier  ; 
The  king,  God  bhfs  his  royalty, 

Who  fav'd  me  from  the  main, 
I'll  praifc  with  love  and  loyalty, 

But  ne'er  to  fea  again. 

BALLAD — IN    THE    ODDITIES. 


THE  morning  breaks, 

Thole  ruddy  ftreaks 
Proclaim  the  opening  day, 

With  glowing  health, 

The  fportfman's  wealth, 
Away  boys,  come  away. 

The  mellow  horn 
*  On  the  ftill  morn 
Pours  founds  which  echo  mocks, 

While  following  bound 

Man,  horfe,  and  hwund, 
T'  unearth  the  wily  fox. 

Hark  echo  mocks 

The  winding  horn, 

That  on  the  expanded  wing  of  morn, 

Though  fwec-t  the  found  in  dreadful  yell, 

Tolls  out  a  knell 

To  the  devoted  fox. 

Now  off  he's  thrown, 

The  day's  our  own, 
See  yonder  where  he  takes  ; 

To  cheat  our  eyes, 

In  vain  he  tries 
The  rivers  and  the  brakes. 

The  mellow  horn 

Breaks  on  the  morn, 
A.nd  leads  o'er  hills  and  rocks; 

While  following  bound 

Man,  horfe,  and  bound, 


So          DIBDIN'S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

T'  entiapthe  wily  fox. 

Hark  echo  mocks,  &c. 

Now,  now  he's  feiz'd, 

The  dogs  well  pleas'd 
Behold  liis  eye-balls  roll; 

He  yields  his  breath, 

Anil  from  his  death 
Is  born  the  flowing  bowl. 

The  mellow  horn 

That  through  the  morn 
Led  over  hills  and  rocks, 

Now  founds  a  call 

To  fee  the  fall 
Of  the  expiring  fox. 


GLEE IN  THE  WHIM  OF  THE  MOMENT. 


COME    around   me  and  weep,  to  your  hearts  take  dcfpiir  : 

"I'is  a  caufe  that  all  nature  muft  mourn, 
Poor  Tiy'ss,  of  love  from  all  had  a  fharc, 

From  our  wifhes  for  ever  is  torn. 
That  Hylas  to  whom  we  look'd  up  for  a  fmile, 

As  we  bieffings  from  heaven  would  obtain, 
Whofe  form  was  fo  faultlefs,  whofe  tongue  knew  no  guile, 

Is  gone,  and  our  wifhes  are  vain. 


BALLAD — -IN     THE    WHIM  OF   THE   MOMENT. 


'TIS  true  the  marks  of  many  years 
Upon  my  wrinkled  front  appears, 
Yet  have  1  no  fuch  idle  fears 

This  will  my  fortune  fpoi! : 
Gold  fHil  fome  happinefs  bellows, 
E'en  where  no  youthful  ardour  glows  ; 
For  proof  dear  girl,  take    thefe    rouleaus? 
And  give  a  fweet  fmile. 
'Tis  true  upon  my  haggard  face 
No  marks  of  beauty  can  you  trace, 
Jjor  wears  my  figure  ought  of  grace 

To  cnfure  the  lover's  blifs  ? 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         81 

Yet  am  I  no  fuch  horrd  fright 

But  that  bank  notes  may  fet  things  right, 

Take  then  thefe  bills  all  drawn  at  light, 

And  give  me  a  fwett  kiis. 
'Tis  true  I  know  not  to  be  kind. 
And  that  within  my  harden'd  mind 
To  more  a  jewel  can  you  find 

Than  beauty  in  my  face  : 
But  one  within  this  cafket  here 
May  make  amends,  its  luftre's  clear, 
Nor  iliall  I  think  I've  fo'd  it  dear 

Paid  by  a  fweet  embrace. 


BALLAD  —  IN    THE   ODDITIES. 

COME  painter,  with  thy  happieft  flight, 

Portray  me  every  grace 
In  that  bleft  region  of  delight, 

My  charming  Silvia's  face  : 
And  hear  me  painter,  to  enhance 

The  value  of  thine  art, 
Steal  from  her  eyes  that  very  glance 

That  ftole  away  my  heart, 
Her  forehead  paint,  in  fway  and  rule, 

Where  fits,  with  pleafure  grac'd, 
A  form  like  Venus  beautiful, 

And  like  Diana  Chafte  : 
Then  paint  her  cheeks  —  come,  paint  and  gaze, 

Guard  well  thy  heart  the  vhile, 
And  then  her  mouth,  where  Cupid  plays 

In  an  eternal  fmile. 
Next  draw  —  prefumptuous  painter  hold; 

Ah  think'fi  to  thee  'twas  given 
Te  paint  her  bofom?  —  would  ft  fo  bold 

Prcfume  to  copy  heaven  ! 
,Nay  leave  the  tafk,  for  'tis  above  ; 

Far,  far  above  thine  art  ! 
Her  portrait's  drawn  —  the  painter  love, 

The  tablet  my  fond  heart. 


82         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

..«-<>>»~<£^<@><j;&>-*«>  ..«v., 

BALLAD — IN  THE  ODDITIES. 


A  Sailor's  life's  a  life  of  woe, 

He  works  now  late  now  eariyt 
Now  up  and  down,  now  to  and  fro, 

What  then  he  takes  it  chcerly  : 
B'efi  with  a  fmiling  can  of  grog, 
If  duty  call, 
Stand,  rife,  or  fall, 
To  fate's  laft  verge  he'll  jog: 

The  cadge  to  weigh, 

The  fliccts  belay, 
He  does  it  with  a  wiflil 

To  heave  'he  lead, 

Or  to  cat-head 
The  pondrous  anchor  fifli : 

For  while  the  grog  goes  round, 

All  fenfe  of  clanger  drovm'd, 

We  dcfpife  it  to  a  man  : 
We  fing  a  little,   and  laugh  a  little, 
And  work  a  little,  and  fwear  a  little, 
And  fi  Idle  a  little,  and  foot  it  a  liitle, 

And  f\vig  the  flowing  can. 

If  howling  winds  and  roaring  feas 

Give  proof  of  coming  danger, 
We  view  the  ftorm,  our  hearts  at  eafe,. 

For  Jack's  to  fear  a  ftranger ; 
B'efl  with  the  fmiling  grog  we  fly, 
Where  now  below 
We  headlong  go, 
Now  rife  on  mountains  high; 
Spight  of  the  ga'e, 
We  hand  tfce  fail, 
Or  take  the  needful  reef, 
Or  man  the  deck 
To  clear  fome  wreck, 
To  five  the  fhip  relief: 

Though  perils  threat  around,. 
All  fenfe  of  danger  drown'd, 

We  defpifc  it  to  a  man. 
We  ling  a  little,  &c. 


»IBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         83 

But  yet  think  not  our  fate  is  hard, 

Though  ftorms  at  fta  thus  treat  us, 
For  coming  home,  a  fweet  reward, 

With  fmiles  our  fweetbearts  greet  us  ! 
NJW  too  the  friendly  grog  we  quafl", 
Our  hin'rous  toaft, 
Her  we  love  moft, 
And  paylv  fing  and  laugh  : 
The  fails  we  furl, 
Then  for  each  girl 
The  petticoat  difpl^y; 
The  deck  we  clear, 
Then  three  times  cheer, 
As  we  their  charms  furvey  ; 
And  thea  the  grog  goes  round, 
Ad  fenfe  of  danger  drown  'd, 

We  defpife  it  to  a  man  : 
We  firg  a  little,  <Stc. 


CATCH  —  IN  THE  BY-STANDER. 


HERE  lies  a  philofopher,  knowing  and  brave, 

From  whom  madam  nature  ne'er  hid  the  ieaft  wonder, 

Who  looking  to  heaven,  tumbled  into  his  grave, 
And  difdain'd  that  fame  earth  where  he  rotting  lies  unde 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE  ODDITIES. 


AWAY  and  join  the  rendezvous, 

Good  fellowship  reigns  here, 
joys  ftandard  flying  in  your  view, 
T'o  invite  each  volunteer. 
Mark  !  pleafures  drum 
Cries  come,  come,  come, 
Obey  the  kind  falute, 
The  echoing  hall 
Rcfounds  the  call, 
To  weteome  each  recruit. 
Behold  the  dinner  in  array, 
A  column  it  appears; 


48  DIBDIN'S  SELESTED  SONGS. 

While  pyramids  of  whips  difplay 
A  corps  of  grenadiers. 

Hark !  pleafure's  drum,  &c. 
See  rivers, not  of  blood,  poured  out, 

But  ne&ar,  'clear  and  ftrong, 
Young  Ganemede's  become  a  fcout, 
Hebe  an  aid-de-camp. 

Hark!  pleafure's  drum,  &c. 
Mow  down  the  rank.-,  fee,  fee,  they  fly, 

Attack  them  glafs  in  hand  ; 
Clofe  quarters,  rally,  fi^ht  or  die, 
Tis  Bacchus  gives  command. 
Hark  !  pleafures  drum,  &c. 


BALLAD IN    THE    WHIM   OF   THE   MOMENT. 


To  Bachelor's-Hall  we  good  fellows  invite, 
To  partake  of  the  chafe  that  make    up  our  delight  ; 
We  have  fpirits  like  fire,  and  of  health,  fuch  a  ftock, 
That  our  pulfe  ftrike  the  feconds  as  true  a»  a  clock. 
Did  you  fee  us,  you'd  fwear,  as  we  mount  with  a  grace, 
That  Diana  had  dubb'dfome  new  gods  of  the  chafe. 
Hark  away,  hark  away,  all  nature  looks  gay, 
And  Aurora  vvith'imiles  ufherb  in  the  bright  day. 
Dick  Thickfet  came  mounted  upon  a  tine  black, 
A  better  fleet  gelding  ne'er  hunter  did  hack  ; 
Tom  Trig  rode  a  bay,  full  of  mettle  and  bone, 
And  gaily  Bob  Buxom  rode  proud  on  a  roan  ; 
But  thehorfe  of  all  horfes  that  rivali'd  the  day 
Was  the  fquire's  Neck-or-Nothing,  and  that  was  a  grey. 
Hark  away,  &c. 

Then  for  hounds,  there  was  Nimble, fo  well  thatclimbs  rocks, 

And  Cocknofe,  a  good  one  at  fceming  a  fox, 

Little  Plunge,  like  a  mole  who  will  ferret  and  fearch, 

And  beetlc-brow'd  HawkWye,  fo  de.id  at  a    urch. 

Young  Sly-lo;;ks,  \\ho   fcents    the   Itrong    breeze   from   the 

fouth, 
And  mufical  Echo-xvellj  with  his  deep  mouth. 

Hark  away,  &c. 

Our  horfes  thus  a!!  of  the  very  bell  of  Wood, 
'Tis  not  likely  you'll  eaiily  find  fuch  a  ftud  : 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         85 

And  for  hounds  our  opinions  with  thoufands  we'd  back, 
That  all  England  throughout  can't  produce  fuch  a  pack. 
Thus,  having  defcribed  you  dogf,    horfes,  and  crew, 
Away  we  fet  off,  for  the  fox  is  in  view. 
Hark  away,  &c. 

Sly  renard's  brought  home,  while  the  horns  found  a  call, 

And  now  you're  all  welcome  to  Bachelor's  Hall, 

The  fav'ry  firloin  grateful  fmoaks  on  the  board, 

And  Bacchus  pours  wine  from  his  favourite  hoard. 

Come  on  then,  do  honour  to  this  jovial  place, 

And  enjoy  the  fweet  pleafures  that  fpring  from  the  chafe  ; 

Hark  away,  hark  away,  while  cur  fyirits  are  gay, 

Let  us  drink  to  the  joys  of  the  next  coming  day. 


BALLAD  —  IK    THE    ODDITIES. 


LET  bards  elate, 

Of  Sue   and  Kate 
And  Moggy  take  their  fill  O, 
.     And  pleas'd  rehearfe 

In  jingling  verfe 
The  lafs  of  Richmond  hill  O  : 

A  lafs  more  bright 

My  am'rous  flight, 
Impell'd  by  love's  fond  workings, 

Shall  loudly  ling, 

Like  any  thing, 
'Tis  charming  Peggy  Perkins. 

Some  men  compare 

The  favourite  fair 
To  every  thing  in  nature  ; 

Her  eyes  divine 

Are  fun*  that  fhine, 
And  fo  on  with  each  feature. 

Leave,  leave,  ye  fools, 

The  hackneyed  rules, 
And  all  fuch  fubtle   quirkings, 

Sun,  moon,  and  ftars 

Are  alia  farce, 
"Compar'd  to  Peggy  Perkins. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Each  twanging  dart 

That  through  my  heart 
From  Cupid's  bow  hasmorric'd, 

Were  it  a  tree, 

Why  I  fhould  he 
For  all  the  world  a  foreft  ; 

Five  hundred  fops, 

With  fhrugs  and  hops, 
And  leers,  and  fmiles,  and  fmirkings, 

Mod  willing  flic 

Would  leave  for  me, 
Oh  what  a  Peggy  Perkins. 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE  ODDITIES. 


TVVAS  Saturday  night  the  twinkling  flan, 

Shone  on  the  rippling  fea, 
No  duty  call'd  the  jovial  tars, 

The  helm  was  lalh'd  a-lee  ; 
The  ample  can  acLirii'd  the  board  : 

Prepar'd  to  fee  it  out, 
Each  gave  the  lafs  that  he  ador'd, 

And  pufli'd  the  grog  about. 
Cried  hone  ft  Ton1,  my  Peg  I'll  toaft, 

A  frigate  neat  and  trim, 
All  jolly  Portfmouth's  favourite  boaft  : 

I'd  venture  life  and  limb. 
Sail  fcven  long  years,  and  ne'er  fee  land, 

With  daunt lef>  heart  and  ftout, 
So  tight  a  veflel  to  command — 

Then  pufli  the  grog  about. 

I'll  give,  cried  little  Jack,  my  Poll, 

Sailing  in  comely  ftate, 
Top  gan'tfails  fet,  fhe  is  fo  tall, 

She  looks  like  a  firft  rate  : 
All  !  would  flit  take  her  Jack  in  tow, 

A  voyage  for  life  throughout, 
.No  better  birth  I'd  wifh  to  know, 

Then  pufli  the  grog  about. 

I'll  give,  cried  I,  my  charming  Nan, 
Trim,-handfomc,  neat,  and  tight, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED   SON?GS.        Sy 

What  joy  fo  fine  as  fhip  to  mnn, 

She  is  my  heart's  delight  ! 
So  well  flie  bears  the  ftorms  of  life, 

I'd  fail  the  world  throughout", 
Brave  every  toil  for  fuch  a  wife, 

Then  pufh  the  grog  about. 
Thus  to  defcribe  Poll,  Peg,  or  Nau, 

Each  his  beft  manner  tried  ; 
Till,  fummoivd  by  the  empty  can, 

They  to  their  hammocks  hied  : 
Yet  flill  did  they  their  vigils  keep, 

Though  the  huge  can  was  out, 
For,  in  foft  vifions  gentle  fieep 

btill  pufh'd  the  grog  about 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE    ODDITIES. 


THAN  marriage  and  mufic  can  ought  bz  more  like  ? 

Both  are  bound  and  cemented  by  ftrong  chords: 
Hymen's  chains,  tho'  they  gall,  yet  with  ccftafy  fhike, 

Exactly  like  difcords  and  concords  : 
Like  hooting  of  owls  and  of  bats  on  the  w/ng, 

Strife  all  wedding  happinefs  garble?, 
But  when  hearts  born  for  p'cafure  in  unifon  fing, 

'Tis  the  mellow-ton'd  nightingale  warbles. 

When  the  wife  or  the  hufband  a  note  founds  too  fliarp, 

In  alt  both  imtnediateiy  foar  ; 
On  family  diicords  they  mutually  harp, 

Nor  will  either  come  down  a  note  lower. 
Thus  like  hooting,   &c. 

All  harmony's  powers  in  wedlock  we  trace, 

Dutch  harmony,  not  Italiano  ; 
She  thunders  the  counter,  he  grumbles  the  bafs, 

And  the  children  fquall  out  the  foprano. 
Thus  like,  &c. 


RONDEAU  -  IN     THE    ODDITIES. 


ALAS  where  fliall  I  comfort  find  ? 
My  peace  is  gone,  diflrtfled  my  mind, 


DIBDINS  SELECTED  SONGS. 

My  heart  beats  high, 
1  know  not  why, 
Poor  heart !  ah  me,  ah  me  ! 
So  tender,  artlefs,  and  fo  young, 
!  liften'd  to  his  fiatt'ring  tongue, 
Nor  did  I  e'er 
Stifpeill  a  fnare 
From  one  who  went  to  fea. 
For  failors  kind  and  honed  arc, 
They  injured  virtue  make  their  care, 
One,   only  one,  did  e'er  depart 
Fiom  that  prov'd  rule,  and  hr, 
Ah  me  I 
V/as  born  to  break  my  fiuiple  heart. 

Alas,  &c. 

When  abfent  from  my  longing  arms, 
Each  hour  w£s  fraught  with  new  alarmsj 
Each  rifing  morn  beheld  my  tears, 
The  fofttft  breeze,  ia  my  fond  fears, 
Did  the  horizon  flraight  deform, 
And  zephyr  grew  into  a  ftorm  : 
Yet  to  be  cheated  of  my  blifs. 
And  was  I  then  fo  kind  for  this  ? 
Alas,&c. 


BALLAD IK   THE  ODDITIES. 


HOW  much  I  love  thee  girl  would'ft  knew, 
Better  than  rofin  loves  the  bow, 
Than  treble  fliriil  the  growling  bafs 
Or  fpruce  guitars  a  tawdry  caie. 
No  more  then  let  us  folo  jjlay, 
To  Hymen's  temple  jig  away, 
There  when  we  get, 
In  a  duet, 

Of  pleafure  will  we  take  our  fwing, 
Joy's  fiddle  ("hall  play, 
Love's  bells  iliall  ring  : 
Ard  while  \vc  celebrate  the  day, 
We'll  frfk  away, 
And  '.ai'gli  •'.^  P!a}'» 
And  dance  and  fiug, 
-.•  •:  fiilk  away  li'-e  any  thing. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          89 


I  love  thee  more,  I  really  think, 
Than  dancers  jigs,  or  fiddlers  drink; 
Than  dancing-maflers  love  a  kit, 
Or  jolly  failors  fal  dral  tit. 

No  more  then,  &c* 
I  love  thee  Griddy  Oh  much  more 
Than  fingers  love  a  loud  encore, 
Than  curates  crowdies  love  to  fcralch, 
Or  roaring  drunkards  love  a  catch. 

No  more  then,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN   THE    ODDITIES. 


THE  wind  was  hufli'd,  the  fleecy  wave 
Scarcely  the  VcffeTs  fides  could  lave, 
When  in  the  mizen  top  his  fland 
Tom  Ciueline  taking,  1'pieil  the  land. 
Oh  what  reward  for  all  his  toil ! 
Once  mere  he  views  his  native  foil, 
Once  more  he  thanks  indulgent  fate, 
That  brings  him  to  his  bonny  Kate. 
Soft  as  the  fighs  of  Zephyr  flow, 
Tender  and  plaintive  as  her  woe, 
Serene  was  the  attentive  eve, 
That  heard  Tom's  bonny  Kitty  grieve. 
'  Oh  what  avails.'  cried  fl;c, '  my  pain  ? 
'  He's  fwailow'd  in  the  greedy  main  : 
'  Ah  never  lliall  I  welcome  home, 
'  With  tender  joy,  my  honei't  Tom.' 
Now  high  upon  the  faithful  fhroud, 
The  land  awhile  that  feem'd  a  cloud, 
AVhile  objects  from  the  mi  ft  arife, 
A  feafl  prefent  Tom's  longing  eyes. 
A  riband  near  his  heart  which  lay, 
Now  fee  him  on  his  hat  difplay, 
The  given  fign  to  fliew  that  fate 
Had  brought  him  fafe  to  bonny  Kate, 
Near  to  a  cliff,  whofe  heights  command 
A  profpeift  of  the  fhelly  flrand, 
While  Kitty  fate  and  fortune  blam'd, 
Sudden,  vith  rapture,  H-.e  exclaim'd, 
H  2 


90          DIBDIN'S  SELECTEB  SONGS. 

'  But  fee, oh  heaven!  a  fhip  in  view, 
'  My  Tom  appears  among  the  crew, 
'  The  pledge  he  fwore  to  bring  fafe  home, 
'  Streams  on  his  hat — 'tis  honed  Tom.' 

What  now  remains  were  eafy  told, 
Tom  comes,  his  pockets  lin'd  with  gold, 
Now  rich  enough  no  more  to  roam, 
To  ferve  his  king,  he  flays  at  home. 
Recounts  each  toil,  and  (hews  each  fear, 
While  Kitty  and  her  conftarit  tar 
With  rev'rence  teach  to  blefs  their  fates 
Young  honeft  Toms  and  bonny  Kates. 

BALLAD IN    THE    ODDITIES. 


Y/HY  I  be  fquire  Ned  of  Gobble-hall, 

I  be  come  to  London  town  with  father, 
And  they  that  little  I  a  goofe  goes  to  call, 
Should  call  me  a  fox  much  rather. 
I  be  filcnt  and  fly, 
And  cnnningjand  dry, 
And  with  a  kawk's-eye 
I'o  watch  what's  faid  and  done  am  ready  \ 
So  they  that  gots  to  hope 
To  hang  me  for  a  fool, 
Will  find  in  the  rope 
A  knave,  that  lie  wool : 
So  you  never  muft 
To  faces  truft, 
For  I  be  fly, 
And  queer,  and  dry 
And  they  that  thinks  to  make  a  fool  of  I, 

Are  all  dcceiv'd  in  little  Neddy. 
When  the  comely  captain  on  his  knees  I  find> 

Who  to  mother  has  vow'd,  and  kifs'd  her 
Why  'tis  nothing  more  than  kind  after  kind, 
For  the  dancing- mafter  kifTes  fifler: 
So  they  thinks  me  to  choufe, 
\Vhite  I  goes  about  the  houfe, 
As  tame  as  a  moufe, 
tiy  the  nick  name  of  fimplc  Teddy  ; 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS.     91 

But  'tis  all  one  to  me 
If,  in  day  time,  d'ye  fee, 
They  meets  iheir  fpark, 
I  kifs  maids  in  the  dark, 
So  you  never  muft 
To  faces  truft,  &c. 
If  father  be  in  love  with  a  bouncing  damc> 

Thinking  I  be  a  lout,  and  no  better, 
He  fpells  me  out  good  madam's  name, 
And  gives  me  a  guinea  and  a  letter, 
What  docs  I  do,  d'ye  think  ? 
To  myfelf  while  I  wink, 
I  pockets  the  chink, 

Burns  the  letter,  and  makes  love  to  the  lady  : 
Thus,  while  down  to  the  ground, 
1  tricks  them  all  round, 
Pretty  fifter  and  mamma, 
And  my  reverend  pappa  : 
So  you  never  muft 
To  faces  trufr,  &c. 


BALLAD — IN   THE  ODDITIES, 


BEN  Eackftay  lov'd  the  gentle  Anna, 

Conftant  as  purity  was  the, 
Her  honey  words,  like  fucc'ring  manna, 

Cheer'd  him  each  voyage  he  made  to  fea. 
One  fatal  morning  faw  them  parting, 

Whiie  each  the  other's  Ibrrow  clued, 
They,  by  the  tear  that  then  was  fbrting, 

Vow'd  to  be  conflant  till  they  died. 
At  diftance  from  his  Anna's  beauty, 

While  howling  winds  the  fky  deform, 
Een  fighs,  and  well  performs  his  duty, 

And"  braves  for  love  tlie  frightful  fiorm  : 
Alas  in  vain — the  veffel  batter 'd, 

On  a  rock  fplitting,  open'd  wide, 
Whilt  lacerated,  torn,  and  lhattcr'd, 

Ben  thought  of  Anna,  figh'd,  and  died. 
The  femblance  of  each  charming  feature, 

That  Ben  had  worn  around  his  neck, 
Where  art  flood  fubftitute  for  nature, 

A  tar,  his  friead,  fav'd  from  the  wreck, 


DIBDIN  S     SELECTED    SONGS. 

In  fervent  hope  while  Anna,  burning, 
Blufli'd  as  fhe  wiih'd  to  be  a  bride, 

The  portrait  came,  joy  turn'd  to  mourning, 
She  faw,  grew  pale,  funk  down,  and  died  ! 


—<>•«  •••(>••.  <=><=£>  <sg;  ..<>...  •••»*• 
BALLAD  -  IN   THE   ODDITIES. 


ABERGAVNEY  is  fine,  Aberiflwith  alfo, 
And  the  lafTes  it  is  fine  when  to  market  they  go  ; 
The  birds  and  the  pretty  finches  fingfine  in  the  grove, 
But  the  fineft  bird  of  all  is  that  little  rogue  luff, 
Luff  me  I  pray  you  now,  luff  me  as  your  life, 
And  Taffy  and  Griddy  fhall  foop  be  man  and  wife. 
The  mountains  are  high,  and  the  fallies  are  low, 
And  from  Radnor  to  Glamorgan's  a  long  fay  to  co  ; 
But  I'd  co,  and  I'd  run,  and  I'd  fly,  and  I  d  rove, 
If  when  I  came  there  I  fliould  meet  with  my  luff. 
Luff  me,  &c. 

Toil  and  labour  is  hard,  and  the  time's  very  long, 
From  the  lark's  pretty  chant  to  the  nightingale's  fong, 
But  I'd  toi'  and  I'd  labour  throughout  the  whole  year, 
And  think  it  a  day,  were  I  blcft  with  my  dear. 
Luff  me,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN    THE    ODDITIES. 


RESPLENDENT  gleam'd  the  ample  moon, 

Rt-fle&ed  on  the  glitt'ring  ice, 
The  bell  proclaim'd  night's  awful  noon, 

And  fcarce  a  ripple  fnook  the  fea, 
When  thus,  for  fai'lors,  nature's  care, 

What  education  has  denied, 
Are  of  ftrong  fenfe,  a  bounteous  fhare 

By  obfcrvation  well  fupplied  : 
While  thus,  in  bold  and  honeft  guife, 

For  wifdom  mov'd  h's  tongue, 
Drawing  from  reafon  comfort's  drop 

In  truth  and  fair  reflection  wife, 

Right  cheerfully  fimg 
Little  Ben  that  kept  his  watch  on  the  main  top. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS,  93 

Why  fliould  the  hardy  tar  complain  ? 
'Tis  certain  true  lie  weathers  rftorc 
From  dangers  on  the  roaring  main 

Than  lazy  lubbers  do  afhore. 
Ne'er  let  the  noble  mind  defpair, 

Though  roaring  feai  run  mountains  high, 
All  things  are  built  with  equal  care, 
Firfl  rate  or  wherry,  man  or  fly  : 
If  there's  a  power  that  never  errs, 

And  certainly  'tis  fo  — 
For  honeft  hearts  what  comfort's  drop  — 
As  well  as  kings  and  emperors, 

Why  not  take  in  tow 

Little  Ben  that  keeps  his  watch  in  the  main  top  ? 
What  though  to  diftant  climes  I  roam, 

Far  from  my  darling  Nancy's  charms, 
The  fweeter  is  my  welcome  home, 

To  blifsful  moorings  in  her  arms. 
Perhaps  fhe  on  that  fober  moon 

A  lover's  obfervation  takes, 
And  longs  that  little  Ben  may  foon 

Relieve  that  heart  which  forely  achs. 
Ne'er  fear,  that  power  that  never  errs, 

That  guards  all  things  below  — 

HOT  hontfl  hearts  what  comfort's  drop  — 

As  well  as  kings  and  emperors, 

Will  furely  take  in  tow 
Little  Ben,  that  keeps  his  watch  in  the  main  top, 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  ODDITIES. 


CROWN  me  Bacchus,  mighty  god, 

The  vidlory  is  thine, 
Cupid's  bow  yields  to  thy  rod, 

And  love  fubmits  to  wine  : 
Love,  the  dream  rf  idle  boys, 

That  makes  the  fage  an  afs, 
Love  cannot  vie  with  thofc  fweet  jcy» 

That  crown  the  fparkling  g!afs, 
To  plunge  in  care  Itt  lovers  v,-hine. 

Such,  fools  whw  will  be  may^ 


94 


Good  fellows  glafs  in  hand  combine 

To  drive  pale  care  away  : 
With  grief  of  heart,  how  many  a  boy 

Goes  mad  to  pleafe  fome  lafs  ; 
We  too  go  mad,  but  'tis  with  joy, 

Fir'd  by  the  fparkling  glafs. 
How  many  dangle  OR  a  tree 

Who  buckle  to  love's  tether, 
True  to  our  honeft  purpofe  we 

Hang  too,  but  'tis  together  : 
The  lover  numbers,  by  his  fighs, 

The  moments  as  they  pafs, 
We  count  them  in  a  way  more  wife. 

By  putting  round  the  glafs. 
See  in  his  cage  the  hufband  fing;, 

Wife,  children,  fquall  fonorous, 
We  make  the  air  and  glaffes  ring, 

While  finging  freedom's  chorus  : 
No  never  fhall  prefutnptuous  love 

The  joys  of  wine  furpafs, 
Worn  out  by  bickerings,  even  Jove 

Seeks  Bacchus  and  his  glafs. 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE    ODDITIES. 


OF  the  ancients  is't  fpeaking  my  foul  you'd  be  after, 

That  they  never  got  how  came  you  fo  ? 
Would  you  feiioufly  make  the  good  folks  die  with  laughter  ? 

To  be  fure  their  dogs  tricks  we  don't  know. 
Wid  your  fmalliliow  noufenfe,  and  all  your  queer  bodderns, 

Since  whifky's  a  liquor  divine, 
To  be  fure  the  old  ancients,  as  well  as  the  moderns, 

Did  not  love  a  fly  fup  of  good  wine. 
Apicius  and  ^Efop,  as  authors  affare  us, 

Would  fwig  till  as  drunk  as  a  beaft, 
Den  what  do  you  link  of  that  rogue  Epicurus  ? 

Was  not  he  a  tight  hand  at  a  fcaft  ! 

Wid  your  fmalliliow,  &c. 
Alexander  the  Great,  at  his  banquets  who  drank  hard, 

When  he  no  more  worlds  could  fubdue, 
Shed  tears  to  be  fare,  but  'twas  tears  of  the  tankard, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         95 

To  refrefh  i  •  .1  -—  and  pray  would  not  you  ? 

\Via  i  iow,  &c. 

Den  dat  tother  old  tei.ow  they  call'd  Ariftotle, 

Such  a  devil  of  a  tipler  was  he, 

Tint  one  night,  having  taken  too  much  of  his  bottle, 
The  taef  ftagger'd  inio   the  fea. 
Wid  your  fmaliiliow,  &c. 

Den  they  made  what  they  call  of  their  wine  a  libation, 

Which,  as  all  authority  quotes, 
They  threw  on  the  ground,  inufha  what  buderation, 

To  be  fure  'twas  not  thrown  down  their  treats. 
Wid  your  fmaliiliow,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  ODDITIES. 


I  fail'd  from  the  Downs  in  the  Nancy, 

My  jib  how  flie  fmack'd  through  the  breeze, 
She's  a  veflel  as  tight  to  my  fancy 

As  ever  fail'd  on  the  fait  fcas. 
So  adieu  to  the  white  cliffs  of  Briton, 

Our  girls,  and  our  dear  native  Ihore, 
For  if  fome  hard  rock  we  fhould  fplit  on, 

We  fhall  never  fee  them  any  more. 
But  failors  were  born  for  all  weathers, 

Great  guns  let  it  blow  high,  blow  low, 
Our  duty  keeps  us  to  our  tethers, 

And  where  the  gale  drives  we  muft  go. 
When  we  entcr'd  the  gut  of  Gibraltar, 

I  verily  thought  flie'd  have  funk, 
For  the  wind  fo  began  for  to  altar, 

She  yaw'd  jufl  as  thof  flie  was  drunk. 
The  fquall  tore  the  mainfail  to  fhivers, 

Helm  ?.  weather  the  hoarfe  boatfwain  cries, 
Brace  the  forefail  athwart,  fee  flic  quivers, 

As  through  the  rough  tcmpcft  flie  flies. 
But  failors,  <Scc. 

The  ftorm  came  on  thicker  an  1  fafter, 
As  black  jufl  as  pitch  was  the  fky. 

When  truly  a  doleful  difafter 
Bcfel  three  poor  failors  and  I. 


96         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Ben  Buntline,  Sam  Shroud,  and  Dick  Handfail, 

By  a  blaft  that  came  furious  and  hard, 
Juft  while  we  were  furling  the  mainfail, 

Were  ev'ry  foul  fvvept  from  the  yard. 

But  failors,  &c. 
Poor,  Ben,  Sam,  and  Dick  cried  peccavi, 

As  for  I,  at  the  rifle  of  my  neck, 
While  they  funk  down  in  peace  to  old  Davy, 

Caught  a  rope,  and  fo  landed  on  deck. 
Well  vvhat  would  you  have,  we  were  ftranded, 

And  out  of  a  fine  jolly  crew 
Of  three  hundred  that  fail'd,  never  landed 

But  I  and  I  think  twenty-two. 

But  failors,  &c. 
After  thus  we  at  fea  had  mifcarried, 

Another  guefs  way  fat  the  wind, 
For  to  England  I  came,  and  got  married 

To  a  lafs  that  was  comely  and  kind  ! 
But  whether  for  joy  or  vexation 

We  know  not  for  what  we  were  born, 
Perhaps  I  may  find  a  kind  ftation, 

Perhaps  I  may  touch  at  Cape  Horn. 
For  failors,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN    THE    ODDITIES. 


SURE  'ent  the  world  a  mafquerade, 

Wid  fhrugs  and  queer  grimaces, 
Wliere  all  mankind  a  roaring  trade 

Drive  underneath  bare  faces  ? 
Pray  don't  the  lover,  let  me  aflc, 

Hid  by  a  fafcine  battery, 
Steal  hearts  away  ?  and  what's  his  mafic  ? 

To  be  fure  it  is  not  flattery. 
Then  join  the  general  mafquerade, 

That  men  and  manners  traces, 
To  be  fure  the  beft  maflcs  dat  are  made 

For  cheating  'ent  bare  faces. 

Weigh  yonder  lawyer — I'll  be  bail, 

So  able  are  his  talents, 
The  devil  himfelf,  in  t'other  fcale, 

Would  quickly  kick  the  balame- 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS.  97 

See  that  friar  to  a  novice  preach, 

To  hoHncfs  to  win  her, 
Their  raalks  dropt  off,  what  are  they  each  ? 

He  a  taef  and  flic  a  firmer. 

To  be  fure  they  'ent,  &c- 

Fcr  her  hufband  fee  yon  widow  cry, 

She'll  never  have  another; 
By  my  foul  fhc  weeps  wid  but  one  eye, 

For  flic's  leering  with  the  tother. 
Yon  courtier  fee,  who,  in  a  crack, 

Will  promife  fifty  places, 
By  my  foul  his  friends  fcarce  turn  their  back 

.But  lie  laughs  before  their  faces. 
To  be  fure  he  don't,  &c. 


BALLAD  -  11$    THE    ODDITIES. 


DEAR  Yanko  fay,  and  true  he  fay, 

All  mankind,  one  and  t'other, 
Negro,  mulatto,  and  malay, 

Through  all  the  world  be  broder. 
In  black,  in  yellow,  what  difgrace, 

That  fcandal  f©  he  ufe  'em  ? 
For  dere  no  virtue  in  de  face, 

De  virtue  in  the  bofoni. 
Dear  Yanko  fay,  £c. 

What  harm  dere  in  a  fhape  or  make  ? 

What  harm  in  ugly  feature  ? 
Whatever  colour,  form,  he  take, 

The  heart  make  human  creature, 
Then  black  and  cepper  both  be  friend, 

No  colour  he  bring  beauty, 
For  beauty  Yanko  fay  attend 

On  him  who  do  him  duty. 
Dear  Yanko  fay,  &c. 

BALLAD — IK  THE  ODDITIES, 


I'Yi  jolly  Dick  the  lamplighfcr, 
They  fay  the  fun's  my  dad, 


98  D1BDI\'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

And  truly  I  believe  it,  fir, 

For  I'm  a  pretty  lail. 
Father  and  I  the  world  delight, 

And  make  it  look  fo  gay, 
The  difference  is  I  lights  by  night, 

And  father  lights  by  day. 
But  father's  not  the  likes  of  I 

For  knowing  life  and  fun, 
For  I  queer  tricks  and  fancies  fpy 

Folks  never  fhe\v  the  fun  :' 
Rogues, owls,  and  bats  can't  bear  the  light, 

I've  heard  your  wife  ones  fay, 
And  fo  d'ye  mind  I  fees  at  night 

Things  never  fees  by  day. 
At  night  men  lay  afide  all  art, 

As  quite  a  ufclefs  tafk, 
And  many  a  face  and  many  a  heart 

Will  then  pull  off  the  mafk  : 
Each  formal  prude  and  holy  wight 

Will  throw  difguife  away, 
And  fin  it  openly  all  night 

Who  fainted  it  all  day. 
His  darling  hoard  the  mifcr  views, 

"MifTes  from  friends  decamp, 
And  many  a  ftatefman  mifchief  brews 

To  his  country  o'er  his  lamp  : 
So  father  and  f>  d'ye  take  me  right, 

Are  juft  on  the  fame  lay, 
I  bare-iac'd  fianers  light  by  night, 

And  he  falfe  faints  by  day. 

BALLAD IN    THE   ODDITIES. 


SWEET  is  the  dew-drop  on  the  thorn, 
That,  like  a  prifni,  rt-fle<£ti  the  morn; 
Sweet  is  ilic  cheering  folar  ray, 
That  compafTes  the  ample  day  : 
Sweet  is  the  balmy  evening's  clofe, 
That  iluits  the  foliage  of  the  rofe  : 
Thde  to  creation  joys  impart 
Like  thofe  which  warm  the  grateful  heart. 


DTBDIN  S  SELECTED    GONGS.  99 

The  little  fongfters  on  the  fyr.iv 
Spontaneous  chant  their  gnueful  lav, 
Or,  to  the  pebbly  rivu'et  driven, 
They  fip,  and  lift  their  heads  to  heaven; 
<)'•,  for  the  worm  or  infecSt  fiy, 
"<'«  teed  their  craving  progeny  : 
Feelings  a  leflon  that  impart 
To  Simulate  the  grateful  heart. 
Mark  vegetation,  wond'rous  fight  ! 
Sec  how  the  germ  breaks  into  tight  ! 
The  fruitful  fhower  the  tree  receives, 
And  frefher  green  adorns  its  leaves: 
Man  cultivates  the  grateful  foil, 
And  flowers  and  fruit  reward  his  toil  : 
Plants,  birds,  all  nature  thus  impart 
Joys  fuch  as  warm  the  grateful  heart, 


SONG  —  IN    THE  ODDITIES. 

FIRST  chufe  a  pretty  melody, 

To  take  in  all  the  flats  : 
Then  change  your  drift, 

And  fuddenly 
Prepare  to  fiiift 

The  key  ; 
Then  growl 
Like  dogs,  and  mio\*I 

Like  cats  : 

Then  chatter  like  monkies  —  now  low,  anil  now  iiiglt, 
Then  whine  and  then  figh, 

And  all  through  the  nofe, 
And.  then  fwina  and  die, 

And  tHen  come  to  a  clofe. 
Among  the  flats  and  fharps  now  a  tedious  journey  travel,. 

Then  Idle  yourfe'f  in  knots  of  chords, 
And  then  thofe  knots  unravel  : 

Then  figh,  and  die, 
And  faint  in  blifs  extatic, 

And  then  the  halftones  try, 
For  a  touch  of  the  chromatic. 
Then  where  you  fet  out  come  again, 
And  now  —  you're  welcome  home  agaia 


TOO         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Then  once  more  the  melody, 

To  take  in  all  the  flats: 
Then  change  your  driu, 

And  fuddeply 
Prepare  10  iliift 

Tin;  key; 
TSicn  gmwi 
Like  <ij;;5,  and  miowl 

Like  cats, 
Then  chatter  iikc  ruonkics—  now  Io\v;  and  now 

And  all  Uirc.ugh  the  nofe; 
And  tlit-n  fwim  and  die, 
And  then  come  to  a  clofe. 
Yet  not  lhabbily, 
But  with  a  fine  contabile, 
In  which  go  high  and  low  boy, 
S;ill  follow'd  by  the  hautboy, 

And  ai!  through  the  nofe, 
And  then  fwim  aad  die, 

And  then  come  to  a  clofc. 


BALLAD  -  IK   THE  WHIM  OF   THE   MOMENT. 


I  AM  the  world's  epitome, 

Look  round  it,  and  then  fay, 
Nature  and  man  may  Tit  to  me, 

Their  likencfs  to  pourtray  : 
As  nature,  in  her  motley  round, 

O  t  ihit'ts  from  day  to  night, 
So  lickle  man  is  varying  found, 

.Stiii  changing  wrong  and  right. 

The  application's  prompt  and  ripe, 
1  of  all  nature  am  the  type, 

So  turn  me  round, 

1  (hail  be  found, 
From  riglu  to  left,  and  left  to  right, 

Look  how  you  will, 

To  vary  dill, 

From  white  to  black,  and  black  to  white. 
Dn  but  that  learned  counfel  fee, 
Who  proves  tnat  wr^ng  is  right, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED   SONGS.       101 

And  prefently  augment  his  fee, 

His  argument  lakes  flight  : 
And  now,  unfwearing  what  he  fwore, 

The  burden  of  his  long 
Reverfes  what  he  laid  before, 

And  proves  that  right  is  wrong. 
The  application's  prompt  and  rips, 
I  of  that  lawyer  am  the  type  : 
For  turn  me  round,  ike. 
Behold  yon  lordly  ttsttcfman  frown, 

At  mention  of  a  bribe, 
As  if  difgrnce  it  had  brought  down 

On  him  and  all  his  tribe  : 
But  left  behind,  he'll  inflant  feize 

Upon  the  well-fill'd  fack, 
Nor  could  the  tfrength  of  Hercules 

Have  power  to  get  it  back. 
The  application's  prompt  and  ripe, 
1  of  that  fta  x-fman  am  the  type  : 

For  turn  me  round,  &c- 
When  bafking  in  profperity, 

Each  friend  to  ferve  you  burns, 
•And  buafting  his  fmcerity, 
The  imiliiig  white  iide  turns  : 

But  let  uncertain  fortune  frown, 

And  take  her  blciliags  back, 
luftant  the  friciidiy  white  is  flowi, 

And  every  man  looks  black. 

The  application's  prompt  and  ripe, 
1  of  all  nature  am  the-  type  : 
For  turn  me  round,  &c. 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE  WHIM  OF  THE  MOMENT. 

WHAT  a  plague  cried  young  Colin  would  Chloe  be  at? 

I  ne'er  will  be  caught  in  a  noofe  : 
Odds  wounds  I'm  reiolv'd,  and  who'd  wager  'gainfl  that, 

Wt  re  it  even  a  guinea,  he'd  lofe. 
I  told  the  young  baggage,  fays  I,  to  her  face, 
Toy  as  much  as  you  will,  but  no  piieft  fliall  fay  gr?.cc. 
I  z 


102  DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Cry'd  young  Thyrfis,  pray  Colin  this  blu'fteringholc!. 

What  you've  utter'd  is  only  through  fear  ; 
In  the  abfcnce  of  danger  all  cowards  feel  bold, 

But  you'd  foon  change  your  tone  were  flie  near  : 
She  has  honour  and  truth,  and  I  fay't  to  your  face, 
With  her  you'll  ne'er  toy  till  the  prieft  fhall  fay  grace. 
Away  then  cried  Colin  a  foldier  I'll  go, 

In  each  quarter  to  find  out  a  wife  ; 
I'll  roar  and  I'll  rant,  rake  a  little,  or  fo, 

But  no  one  fhall  fnap  me  for  life  ; 
For  in  fpite  of  their  fancies,  I'll  fay't  to  their  face, 
Toy  as  much  as  you  v.-ill,  but  no  prieft  fhall  fay  grace. 
As  he  utter'd  thofe  words,  charming  Chloe  came  by, 

Unaffected  and  lovely  as  May  ; 
Adieu  then  poor  Colin  cried  fhe,  with  a  figh, 

While  the  fun  fliiues  begone  and  make  hay. 
Cried  Thyrlis,  d'ye  hear,  you  may  well  hide  your  face  ! 
Withfuch  beauty  would'fl  toy  till  the  prieft  fliould  fay  grace. 
Odd  rot  it,  cried  Colin,  wool  let  me  alone, 

With  vexaton  my  heart  how  it  boils; 
Why  for  her  peace  of  mind  I  would  forfeit  my  new  — 

Woot  forgive  me  fweet  Chloe  ?  —  She  fnsiles.  ! 
See,  fee  glad  confent  lightens  up  in  her  face  ! 
Then  let  us  to  church,  where  the  pritft  ilali  f.iy  grace. 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE  ODDITIES. 


WHAT  thef  I  be  a  country  clrnvr , 

For  all  the  fufs  that  you  mak?, 
One  need  not  to  be  born  in  tov.-n 

To  knew  what  two  and  two  make  : 
'S.juire  fop  there  thinks  his  empty  pate 

Worth  all  ours  put  together, 
But  how  can  that  have  any  weight 

That's  only  made  of  feadv.  • . 
T.ien  duont  ye  be  fo  proud,  c.'ye  fee, 

It  'ent  a  thing  that's  fuiting; 
C  ;n  one  than  tothtr  better  be, 

When  both  are  on  a  footing  ? 
Now  here's  a  man  who  leas  and  land 

Has  dreamt  that  he  can  crofs  ever, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       103 

That  all  the  world's  at  his  command, 

For  he's  a  great  philofopher  : 
That  to  each  i'ecret  he  no  bars 

E'er  finds  but  can  unlock  it, 
And  conjure  down  the  moon  and  flars, 

And  put  them  in  his  pocket: 
But  when  you've  caught  him  where's  the  prize 

So  mighty  to  the  getter  ? 
For  fartin  he  can  make  us  wife, 

But  can  he  make"  us  better  ? 

My  lady  there,  becaufe  flic's  drefs'd 

In  lappets,  frils,  and  flounces, 
See  how  with  pride  her  flutt'ring  breaft 

Throbs,  heaves,  "and  jumps,  and  bounces. 
And  then  'tis  faid  they  makes  a  face, 

New  fpick  and  fpan  each  feature. 
As  if  they  thought  that  a  difgrace 

That's  ready  made  by  nature. 
The  money  for  a  head  fo  high, 

Such  fcotlops  and  fuch  carving, 
Would  keep  an  honeft  family 

A  month  or  more  from  ftarving. 
As  for  the  doctors  and  their  pill, 

Odds  waimds  I  can't  endure  them, 
For  fartin  they  their  patients  kill 

More  oftener  than  they  cure  them. 
And  as  for  matter  poet  here, 

Who  writes  for  fame  and  glory, 
I  thinks  as  he's  a  little  queir 

Poor  foul  in  the  upper  ftory. 
I've  yet  another  wipe  to  fpare, 

For  wounds  I'll  give  no  quarter, 
Next  time  you'd  find  a  fool,  take  care 

You  do  not  catch  a  taratr. 

BALLAD IN   THE   WHIM   OF   THE  MOMENT. 


TO  look  upon  dreP,  upon  fliew,  upon  biith, 
As,  the  nobleft  diltinction  of  life, 

On  riches  as  all  that  give  pieafurc  on  earth, 
Audtl.at  only  cure  forrow  and  ftriie; 


104  DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

And  though  to  thefe  maxims  tme  might  fay  quoi'l/on, 

Yet  this  is  the  Hfe  of  a  lady  of  too. 

Stale  virtue  and  vice  to  erafe  from  their  lift, 

Thole  of  life  make  a  pitiful  part, 
Things  certainly  in  people's  mouths  that  exift, 

But  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  heart  : 
To  maxims  like  thefe  one  may  \\c\l  lay  jut!  b»n, 
Ytt  tlJs  is  the  lift-  of  a  lady  of  ton. 

Upon  prudence  as  vulgar,  and  honcfly  low, 

On  each  man  of  merit  a  brute, 
As  an  angel  an  ape,  or,  'tis  all  one,  a  beau, 

Drefl  out  in  an  elegant  iuit  ; 
To  maxims  like  thefe  one  may  well  fay  q«oi  hi. 
Yet  this  is  the  life  of  a  lady  of  ton. 
To  be  fhort  —  in  a  church  as  the  be  ft  place  to  make 

Appointments,  or  charms  to  difplay. 
And  the  time  moft  commode  of  all  others  to  take 

On  Sunday  for  cheating  at  p'ay  : 
Thcfe  maxims  'tis  certain  nefant  fas  trap  fc«, 
Yet  this  is  the  life  of  a  lady  ef  tun. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  WHIM  OF  THE  MOMENT. 


I  WAS,  d'ye  fee,  a  waterman, 
As  tight  and  fpruce  as  any, 
'Twixt  Richmond  town 
And  Horfley  down 
I  earn'cl  an  honeft  penny  : 
None  could  of  lortune's  favours  brag 

More  than  could  lucky  I, 
T.ly  cot  wasfnug,  well  fill'd  my  cagj 
Mv  srunter  in  the  fly  : 
\\ "ith  wherry  tight 
And  hofom  light 
I  cheerfully  did  row, 

And,  to  complete  this  princely  lift, 
bure  never  man  had  friend  and  wile 
Like  my  Poll  and  my  partner  Jae. 
I  roll'd  in  joys  like  thefe  awhile, 
Folks  far  and  near  carrefs'd  me. 
Till,  woe  is  me, 
So  lubberly 
The  prefs-^.tig  came  and  prefs'd  me  : 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.        105 

How  could  I  a'lthefc  pleafarcs  leave  ? 

How  withr.iy  wherry  part  ? 
1  never  fo  took  on  to  grieve, 
It  wrung  my  very  heart. 
But  when  on  hoard 
They  ga\  e  the  woid, 
To  foreign  parts  to  go, 

1  ru'd  the  moment  I  was  horn, 
That  ever  I  fhould  thus  be  torn 
From  ir.y  Poll  and  my  partner  Jv>e. 
1  did  my  duty  manfully 
While  on  the  billows  rolling, 
And,  night  ordiy, 

Could  find  my  way 
Blindfold  to  the  main-top  bowling  : 
Thus  all  the  dangers  of  the  main, 
Qnickfands  and  gales  of  wind, 
I  brav'd,  in  hopes  to  tafte  again 
The  joys  1  left  behind  : 
In  clime*  afar, 
The  hoteft  war, 
Pour'd  brcadfides  on  the  foe, 
In  hopes  thefe  perils  to  relate, 
As  by  my  fide  attentive  fate, 
My  Poll  and  my  partner  Joe. 
At  lair,  it  plcaf'd  his  majefty 
To  give  peace  to  the  nation, 
And  honeft  hearts 
From  foreign  parts, 
Came  home  for  confolation  : 
Like  lightning — for  1  felt  new  life, 

Now  i'afe  from  all  alarms — 
J  rufh'd,  and  found  my  friend  and  v/ife,     - 
Lo:k'd  in  each  ether's  arms  ! 
Vet  fancy  wot 
I  bftre  my  lot 
Tame  like  a  lubber  : — No  ; 

For  feeing  I  was  finely  trick'd. 
Plump  to  the  devil  1  fairly  ktck'ci 
My  Poll  and  my  partner  Toe. 


i°6       DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 
BALLAD. 


COTCHELIN  fat  all  alone, 

Devil  a  foul  IK  lick  her, 
While  from  Taddy,  who  was  gone, 

Oceans  did  divide  her  ; 
His  pipes,  which  flic'd  been  ufed  to  hear, 

Cartlefs  left  behind  him, 
She  thought  flie'd  try,  her  woes  to  cheer, 

Till  once  again  flic'd  fir-5  him. 
'Twill  not  do,  you  loudle'  i 

Arrah  now  he  aefy, 
Tad  was  horn  with  grief  to  make 

Cotchelin  run  crazy. 
She  takes  them  up,  and  lays  them  down, 

And  now  her  bofom's  panting, 
And  now  flic'd  figh,  and  now  ihe'd  frown, 

Caze  why?  dere's  fomething wanting  : 
And  now  fhe  plays  the  pipes  again, 

The  pipes  of  her  dear  Taddy, 
And  makes  them  tune  his  favourite  ftrain, 

Arrah  be  aefy  Paddy. 
Ah  'twill  not  do,  you  loodle  loo, 

Arrah  now  be  aefy, 
Tad  was  born  with  grief  to  make 

Cotchelin  run  crazy. 
Tadcly  from  behind  a  bufli, 

Where  he'd  long  been  liftening, 
Now  like  lightening  forth  did  rufli, 

His  eyes  with  with  pleaft  re  glifle^ing, 
Snatching  up  his  pints,  be  pl-ay'd, 

Pouring  out  his  pleai'urc, 
While  halt  delighted,  half  afraid, 

l'.\.f.  tlic  time  did  mcaiure  : 
Ah  well  will  do  ibis  loddle  loo, 

Arrah  now  be:  aefy, 
Ta;l  was  born  with  joy  to  make 

Cotcheiiu  run  crazy. 

,.X)...^^V..<»>C^>,<JS^-^..»<V.. 

BALLAD  —  IN   THE  ODDITIES. 


HERE,  a  iheer  hulk,  lies  poor  Tom  Botding, 
The  darling  of  our  crew, 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

No  more  he'll  hear  the  tempeft  howling, 
For  death  has  broach'd  him  too  : 

His  form  was  of  the  manlieft  beauty, 
His  heart  was  kind  ami  foft, 

Faithful  below  he  did  his  duty, 
And  now  he's  gone  aloft. 

Tom  never  from  his  word  departed, 

His  virtues  were  fo  rare, 
His  friends  were  many,  and  true-hearted, 

His  Poll  was  kind  and  fair  : 
And  then  he'd  fing  fo  blithe  and  jolly, 

Ah  many's  the  time  and  oft  ! 
But  mirth  is  turn'd  to  melancholy, 

For  Tom  is  gone  aloft. 
Yet  fhall  poor  Tom  find  plcafant  weather, 

When  he  who  all  commands 
Shall  give,  to  call  life's  crew  together, 

The  word  to  pipe  all  hands. 
Thus  death,  who  kings  and  tars  difpatchcs, 

In  vain  Tom's  life  had  dofF'd  ; 
For  though  his  body's  under  hatches, 

His  foul  is  gone  aloft. 


BALLAD  -  IN   PRIVATE  THEATRICALS. 


THE  ftorm  had  ceas'd,  the  veffel,  ftriving, 

Lay  on  the  frightful  breakers,  torn, 
When  the  drowifd  crew  fcarcely  furviving, 

Jack  pin'd  his  deftiny  forlorn  ; 
Where  are  thofe  friend*  whom  late  I  cherifh'd, 

That  manly,  neble,  honeft  band, 
Ah  do  I  live,  my  mefTVn.ircs  r;;rifh'd, 

To  wail  them  in  a  foreign  land. 
Where  is  my  love,  my  charming  Kitty, 

Alas  unmindful  of  my  Jjrief, 
To  others  woes  fhe  gives  her  pity, 

Nor  thinks  her  Jack  moft  wants  relief. 
But  fee  v  hat  numbers  curious  thronging, 

To  view  our  mis'ry,  crowd  the  ftrand  .' 
Hard  fate's  perhaps  my  life  prolonging, 

For  murder  in  a  foreign  land. 


io8        DIEDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

But  do  my  flaft'r'mg  eyes  deceive  me, 

Or,  if  they  do,  what  out-ftretch'd  arms 
Are  thefc  thus  tender'd  to  relieve  me  ? 

Tis  fhe,  'tis  fhe,  in  all  her  charms. 
My  faith  and  truth,  to  fo  much  beauty. 

Fate  to  reward  with  partial  hand, 
Tfcis  pattern  fends  of  love  and  duty, 

To  fave  me  in  a  foreign  land. 


BALLAD  —  IN    THE   WHIM  OF  THE  MOMENT. 


I  vow  I  thought  you,  at  firft  fight, 
.A  moppet,  a  baboon,  a  fright, 
Or  fome  hobgoblin  of  the  night, 

That  guilty  creatures  waken  : 
Withnofe  and  chin  like  ram's  horns  cuil'd, 
And  brows  in  furrowed  wrinkles  furl'd, 
Well,  'tis  amazing  in  this  world, 

How  one  may  be  miftaken. 
For  now  I  fee,  with  half  an  eye, 
You  are  not  old,  nor  made  awry, 
Nor  do  your  fhamb'ing  trotters  ply, 

As  if  by  pally  fliakcn  : 
You're  young  as  Ganeinede  and  fair, 
NarcifTus  had  not  fuch  an  air, 
Well,  'tis  amazing  I  declare, 

How  one  may  be  miftaken. 


>  "<Vr  • 

BALLAD. 


OXCE  on  a  time  to  mighty  Jove, 

Complaints  ca,me  from  afar, 
From  men  of  unfuccefsful  love, 

Mifcarriages  in  war : 
In  law  the  want  of  equity, 

Oi  mirth  at  city  fcafts, 
Of  pathos  in  their  poetry, 

And  of  good  works  in  prirfh. 
So  loud  and  clam'rous  were  thefc  doc's, 

Thac  Jove,  ne'er  left  at  reft, 


DIBDIN'S   SELECTED   SONG:- 

Convcn'tl  a  fynod  of  the  gods, 

And  Bacchus  'mongftthe  reft  s 
He,  merry  wag,  knew  what  on  eart'i 

Thus  caufrd  thi-m  to  repine, 
And  inftaiit  lent  tueui  genuine  mirth, 

Cafk'd  up  in  tons  of  wine. 
The  lover  drank  and  eas'd  his  care, 

Heroes  grexv  high  in  fame, 
A  comely  paunch  mark'd  each  Lord  Mayor, 

And  lawyers  juft  became. 
Bards  fung  divine,  p:iefts  put  up  prayers, 

For  fuch  a  blefnng  given, 
Aiu!  Bacchus  to  this  day  declares, 

There's  no  fuch  drink  in  heaven. 


BALLAD. 


WHEN  laftin  the  Dreadful  your  honour  fc>' 
On  Newfoundland  hanks,  there  came  on  a  hard  ga!c, 
There  w.vs  thy.nikr,  red  lightening,  and  cold  whittling  hail, 

Enough  the  old  gernman  to  fcare  ; 

One  who  threaten'd  your  life,  dafh'd  below  by  a  wave, 
Your  own  hand  I  faw  fnatch'd  from  a  watery  grave  ; 
And  you  faid  'twas  we!!  done,  for  that  ttiii   with  the  brave 

The  nobleft  of  glory's  tofpare. 
When  yard  arm  and  yard  arm  long  fide  of  a  foe, 
When  the  Mood  from  the  i'cuppers  rain'd  on  us  below, 
When  crippled  enough  to  he  taken  in  tow, 

To  ftrike  we  faw  Mounfecur  prepare  : 
If  a  broad  lide  below,"  or  a  volley  a  ) ;  >•?, 
The  men  were  ready  to  give  htr  for  love, 
How  oft  has  your  honour  cry'd  not  a  hand  move, 

A  hero's  true  glory's  to  fpare. 


..<>..  .,.<)«. 
SONG. 


FAR  from  ftrife  and  loves  alarms, 
With  joyous  heart,  and  mind  at  cafe. 

Time  was  when  rclifllds  charms, 
Bacchus  knew  the  way  to  plcafc. 
K 


IIO  DIBDIN   S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

When  while  the  merry  glee  went  round, 

Gaily  I  law  each  minute  pr    , 
T'"<;r  ever  had  I  heard  a  found 

Like  the  f-.veet  tinkling  of  the  glafs. 
My  ilafk  now  broke,  and  fpilt  my  wine, 

For  Cup'd  Bacchus' joys  1  quit, 
The  myrtle  kills  the  blighted  vine, 

And  love,  turn'd  Tale,  cries  out  fubmit. 


BALLAD. 


I  WENT  to  fea  with  heavy  heart, 

Of  her  I  lov'd  the  fcorn, 
Yet  from  my  thoughts  did  ne'er  depart 

ik/  inu'.gi",   night  or  morn  : 
Storms  lour'd.  waves  roll'd,  and  lightning  flew, 

Yet  did  I  wifh  to  lit?e, 
ft'll  willing,  for  my  peer  heart  was  true, 

To  forget  and  to  forgive. 
The  fir  (I  word,  when  on  Englifli  ground, 

I  i'poke  was  her  falfe  name, 
And  foon  upon  enquiry  found 

—  For  fcaiidal  flies  —  her  fharae  : 
She  lov'd  a  youth  before  the  wind, 

Who  cut  and  let  her  drive  ; 
Avaft,  cried  1,  'twere  now  too  kind, 

To  forget  and  to  forgive. 
"While  of  thefe  thoughts  my  mind  was  full, 

\Vhile  adverfe  hopes  and  fear?, 
L.i\o  winds  did  this  and  that  way  pul!, 

'  :u  came  lo  me  in  tears  : 
Down  went  my  colours,  and  I  fworc 

For  her  alone  I'd  live, 
Kifs'd  her,  and  promis'd  o'er  and  o'er, 

'Jo  foret  and  to  forgive. 


BALLAD. 


THE  boatfwain  calls,  the  wir.d  h>  fair, 
The  anchor  heaving, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.  Ill 

Our  fweetbearts  leaving, 
We  to  duty  mud  repair, 

Where  our  ftations  well  \ve  know  :  ' 

Caft  off  halliards  from  the  elects, 
Stand  by  well,  clear  all  the  fhtets  ; 
Come  my  boys, 
Your  huidfpikes  poifc, 
And  give  one  general  huzza  : 
Yet  Gchiflg  as  you  pull  away. 
For  the  tears  afhore  that  fio'w, 
To  the  windlafs  let  us  go, 
With  yo  heave  ho ! 

The  anchor  coming  now  apeak, 

i.eit  the  fhip,  (hiving, 

Be  on  it  driving, 

That  we  the  tap'ring  yards  mud  feek, 

'    And  hack  the  forctop-fail  wcli  we  know  : 

A  pleaftng  duty  !  from  aloft 

We  faintly  fee  thofe  charms  were  oft, 

When  returning, 

With  palFion  burning, 

We  fondly-gaze,  thole  eyes  that  fecm 

In  parting  with  big  tsars  to  flream  ; 

But  come,  left  ours  33  faft  ftiould  flow, 

To  the  windlafs  once  more  go, 
With  yo  heave  ho  ! 

Now  the  fliip  is  under  weigh, 

The  breeze  lo  wiling, 

The  canvafs  nliiu^, 

The  prcft  triangle  cracks  the  ftay, 

So  taught  to  liaul  the  fheet  we  know  : 

And  now  in  trim  we    gaily  fail, 

The  maffy  beam  receives  the  gale, 

While  rVced  from  duty 

To  his  beauty, 

Left  on  the  lefs'ning  fhore  af-tr, 

A  fervent  figh  heaves  every  tar, 

To  thank  thofe  tears  from  him  that  flo\v, 

That  from  his  true  love  he  fliould  go, 
With  yo  heave  ho  ! 


112  DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

BALLAD !>'   THE   LONG   ODDS. 


AND  did  you  hear  what  fad  difafler, 
1'oor  Peg  of  Mapltdown  befsl, 

For  love  that  ftouteft  hearts  ran  mafter, 
Alas  !  that  thofe  who  love  fo  well, 
In  fcrrow's  train 
Should  mourn  in  vain  : 
Her  ftory  does  fuch  grief  impel, 
That  woe  is  me  the  whi.e  I  cell. 
Fhe  lov'd  a  youth  of  honeft  kindred  ; 
At  church  behold  the  happy  pair  ; 

And  aik  what  t-.vas  their  biils  that  hinder'J, 
For  he  was  young,  and  flie  was  fair  : 
AccuiVd  be  wars, 
And  party  jars, 

Why  niuftthe  hancfome  danger  fliare  : 
Aias  it  nils  me  with  dcffair. 

Onward  to  his  lie<>e  lord's  dwelling 
A  rebel  rout  had  ciu  their  way; 

What  fhritk'  enftied  !  and  what  a  yelling  i 
For  he  a  true  man  muft  away  ; 
He  f>vore  the  fight 
"Would  end  ere  night, 
And  he'd  return  with  garlands  gay, 
Sweet  trophies  for  his  wedding  day. 
l\'ight  came,  nvl  faw  the  youth  returnicg  ? 
Accurs'd  be  war's  destructive  knife  ; 
She  ran  to  t  lafp,  with  psffion  burning, 

ddtd  lord — dcpriv  d  til  hie  ! 
O!i  cruel  i'pight, 
What  !  not  one  night, 
Is  not  her  tale  with  mifcry  rife  ? 
At  once  a  maiden  and  a  wile. 


BALLAD JN    THE    LONG  ODDC. 


A  Sailor,  and  an  honcfl  heart, 
Like  Ihip  and  helm,  are  ne'er  apart 
for,  how  fliimld  one  ftem  wind  a:rd  title 


DIBDIM'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

If  tother  fliould  refufe  to  guide  ? 
With  that  ihe  freely  cuts  the  waves. 
And  fo  the  tar, 

When  clafhing  waves  around  him  jar, 
Confults  his  heart  and  dangers  braves 
Where  duty  calls  ;  nor  afks  for  more 
Than  grog  aboard,  and  girl  alhore. 
'Tis  not  a  thoufand  leagues  from  home 
More  horrid  than  the  billows  foam  ? 
'Tis  not  that  gentler  is  the  breeze 
In  channel  than  in  diflantfeas  ; 
Danger  furrounds  him  far  and  near  : 
But  honed  tar, 

Thougk  winds  nnd  water  round  him  jar, 
Confults  his  heart  and  fcorns  to  fear, 
The  ri£ks  he  runs  endears  him  more 
To  grog  aboard,  and  girl  ailiore. 
'Tis  not  that  in  the  hotted  fight 
The  murd'rous  ball  will  fooner  light 
On  that  than  any  other  fpot, 
To  face  the  cannon  is  his  lot  ; 
He  muft  of  danger  have  his  fhare  : 
But  hone't  tar, 

Though  fire,   and  winds,  and  water  jar, 
Confults  his  heart,  and  (hakes  offcare  : 
And  when  the  battle's  heat  is  o'er, 
In  grog  aboard,  drinks  girl  afliore. 


„«>.....«>...«>  <&><SS>  ••<>-•<>" 

BALLAD  —  IN  HARVEST  HOME. 


WOUNDS,  here's  fuch  a  coil  !  I  am  none  of  your  poor 
Petty  varlets,  who  flatter,  and  cringe,  and  procure  ; 
I'm  a  freeman,  a  nabob,  a  king  on  his  throne, 
For   I've    chatties,  and    goods  and    ttrong  beeroi  my  own  : 
Befides,  'tis  a  rule  that  good  fellows  ne'er  tail 
To  let  any  thing  wait  but  the  generous  ale. 
My  intereft  1  love  ;  thee  I  love  toe,  good  wife, 
But  ftill  1  love  better  a  jovial  life  : 
And  for  thec,  or  my  lady,  with  duty  devout 
I'll  run  u  Old  Wick,  when  the  dobbin's  drank  out, 
K  i 


ii4       DIBDIN'S  SLLLCTED  SONGS. 

Put  'tis  always  a  rule  that  good  fellows  ne'er  fail 
To  let  any  thing  wait,  hut  the  gei.'crous  ale. 


SONG  -  IN    HARVEST   HOME. 


AWAY,  pale  fear  and  ghaftly  terror  ! 

}•'!}",  at  a  parent's  voice  away  ! 
Correcting  every  youthful  error, 

She  deigns  to  bid,  and  I  obey  : 
And  Oil,  my  heart !  thou  nlnrmur'ft  treafon, 

Perturb'd  and  frightsn'd  thus,   to  move  ; 
llu?  iacriiice  I  n;ake  to  rcafcr, 

Lie  frill,  poor  flutt'rcr,  and  approve  ! 


BALLAD IN   THE  ISLANDERS. 


TRULY  friend  Gil  thou  choefcfl:  wcli, 

Taking  a  helpmate  homely, 
For  often  times  fad  tales  they  tc1!, 

Of  wives  who  are  too  coin.. 
F'.it  cheer  thee  Perez,  and  b:. 

i'roni  furniili'd  brows  ex  era  .;•  ,d, 
For  h(,w  can  ihc  e'er  go  ahray 

Who  never  \\ii;  be  tenapted. 
For  thieves  c!o  never  rob  tiie 

A  pebble's  net  a  jt\vei, 
Fruits  do  not  bloflbm  on  a  moor, 

Fire  burns  net  without  fuel  : 
l:l>  with  thy  heart  then  Gil,  be  gay, 

ircm  furnifiitd  bru-..s  exempted, 
v.-ife  can  never  gu  allray, 

l%r  Hie  v.il:  ne'er  be  ttmpttd. 

BALLAD  —  UN1   TH£    ISLANDERS. 


All  !tt  not  an  inftant  of  life  pafs  in  vain, 
Tlie  inomtAts  cfcape  us,  und  age  brings  ou  pa; 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          115 

Life's  too  precious,  to  fugitive  joy, 
The  flowers  which  yefterday  zephyr  difclofed, 
Droop'd  their  heads  on  their  (talks  before  Phcebus  repos  d, 

Thus  one  fmgle  day  ferves  to  form  and  deftroy. 

Then  think  not  of  ought  but  the  moment  that  flies, 

To  learn  to  be  happy's  to  learn  to  be  wife, 

Seize  pleafure  while  pleafure's  our  own, 
Fear  nothing,  thou'rt  mine,  'tis  allotted  above, 
Chance  but  obeyed  Fate,  and  bleft  with  thy  love, 

I  envy  no  king  on  his  throne. 

BALLAD— IX     THE     ISLANDERS. 


THIS  life's  a  days  journey,  we  rife  in  the  morn, 

The  fun,  trees,  and  flowers  our  profpecT:  adorn, 

When,  perhaps,  we  have  fcarcely  been  fet  out  an  hour, 

But  flap  we're  o'ertaken  and  fouftd  in  a  fhowcr  : 

To  flicker  then  quickly,  and  fee  now  'tis  O'er, 

And  in  pretty  good  fpirit  we  fet  out  once  more, 

No\v  uphill,  now  down,  now  even,  and  now 

We  are  cover'd  with  duft,  and  now  popp'd  in  a  flough, 

Thus  we  jog  on  till  dinner,  now  wet  and  now  dry, 

And  now  we've  alow'ring,  and  now  a  clear  fky, 

With  the  fire,  the  good  landlord,  the  wine,  and  the  cheer, 

Now  refrefh'd  we  fet  forward  to  end  our  career  : 

But  th-i  roads  are  uneven,  we  trip,  are  bemired, 

And  jolted,  andjofUtd,  and  tumbled,  and  tired, 

Yet  we  keep  a  good  heart,  and  our  fpirits  are  light, 

In  hopes  we  fhall  meet  with  a  good  inn  at  night. 


>~-  <S>  <S>  =S>  ••«>•*  •  •<>"• 

BALLAD. 


FORGIVE  me  if  thus  I  prefuming 
Come  hither  your  heart  to  furprife, 

Smile,  fmile,  and  my  hopes  re-illumine  : 
But  my  pardon  I  read  in  your  eyes  : 

No  impoflor  the  paffion  I  ov.-n  is, 
And  heaven  what  delight  covild  I  be 


n6        DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

As  truly  to  you  an  Adonis, 

As  you  are  a  Venus  to  int. 
The  gods  who  fo  often  delighted 

In  borrow'tl  forms,  fomt  fair  nymph  to  purfuc, 
-Might  confefs  they  were   never  excited 
By  an  objecSl  fo  charming  as  you. 
No  importer,  &c. 


BALLAD. 


OUR  Jupiter  has  near  his  throne, 

Two  veffels  which  he  tills, 
The  one  with  benefits  alone, 

The  other  crams  with'ills  : 
From  the  good  veffe!,  health,  content, 

Plenty  and  blifs  he  gives, 
While  from  the  evil  forth  are  fent 

Gout,  ftone,  and  fcolding  wives. 
Thus  to  mankind  with  heedful  care, 

In  jurt  proportion  weigh'd, 
The  hit  to  each,  each  beft  can  bear, 

By  Jove's  decree  convey 'd  : 
Uulefs  Ins  patience  when  to  rub, 

Juno  the  devil  drives, 
Then  headlong  from  the  left  hand  tub, 

Go  troops  of  fcolding  wives. 
Oft  his  complaint  on  me  like  air, 

From  men  (till  palled  away, 
Till  that  faine  type  of  Juno  there 

Let  loofe  her  tongue  to-day  : 
But  now  entreating  Jove  I'll  go, 

To  chequer  not  their  lives 
With  ;»ny  other  fpot  of  woe, 

Who're  plsgu'd  with  fcolding  wives. 


BALLAD IN    THE    ODDITIES 


CELIA's  an  angel,   by  her  face 
The  role  and  lily's  fiiaracd, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       117 

The  treffes  of  leva's  queen,  for  grace, 

With  her's  can  ne'er  be  named  : 
The  gods,  cried  one,  that  face  with  care 

Formed  in  their  beft  of  humours, 
What  pity  'tis  both  face  and  hair 

Were  benight  at  the  perfumer's. 
Celia  has  fworii  to  love  till  death  ; 

For  words  fo  full  of  blifs, 
I  could  have  long'd,  but  for  her  breath, 

To  fteal  an  ardent  kifs  : 
Rapture  itfelf  is  poor  and  cold, 

To  joy  that  fhe  dii'covers, 
What  pity  fhe  the  fame  has  told 

To  fifty  other  lovers- 

Celia  is  young,  behold  her  mien, 

Alert  from  top  to  tee, 
My  aunt,  fays  fhe,  was  juft  fifteen 

Some  thirty  years  ago  : 
Thus  youth  and  beauty's  bed  delight* 

Sweet  Celia  are  adorning, 
For  flic  a  Venus  is  at  nights, 

Afybil  in  the  morning. 


BALLAD. 


THE  wind  blew  hard,  the  fea  ran  high, 

The  dingy  feud  drove  crofs  the  iky, 
All  was  fafe  lafhed,  the  bowl  was  flung 

When  carelefs  thus  Ned  Haulyard  lung  : 
A  failor's  life's  the  life  for  me, 
He  takes  his  duty  merrily, 
If  winds  can  whiftle,  he  can  fing  ; 
Still  faithful  to  his  friend  and  king, 
He  gets  belov'd  by  all  the  ihip, 
And  toafts  his  girl,  and  drinks  his  flip. 
Down  topfails  boys,  the  gale  comes  on, 

To  Orike  top-gallant  yards  they  run, 
And  now  to  hand  the  fail  prep^r'c), 

Ned  cheerful  lings  upon  the  yard  : 
A  Tailor's  life,  &c. 


DIBDINS  SELECTED  SONGS. 

A  leak,  a  leak  ! — come  lads  he  bold, 

1  here's.fh-c  foot  water  in  the  ho!d, 
Eager  on  deck  fee  Haulyard  jump, 

And  hark  while  working  at  the  pump  : 

A  failor's  life,  &c. 
And  fee  !  the  veffel  nought  can  fave, 

She  ftrikcs  and  finds  a  wat'ry  grave  ! 
Yet  Ned  preferved,  with  ?.  few  more, 

Sings  as  he  tread?  a  foreign  tliore  : 

A  failor's  life,  &c. 
Andncnv — unnumbered  peri!*  paft, 

On  land  as  weil  as  fca — at  la  ft 
In  tatters  to  his  Poll  and  home 

See  honcft  Haulyard  fingingcome  : 

A  failoi's  life,  &c. 
Yet  for  poor  Haulyard  what  difgrace, 

Poll  fwcars  file  never  faw  his  face  ; 
He  damns  her  for  a  faithlcfs  flic, 

And  finging  gots  again  to  fea  : 
A  failor's  life,  &c. 

WELCH    BALLAD. 


I  PRAY  you  when  your  fwcetheart  pouts, 

And  fleers,  and  flouts, 

And  glours,  and  g'.outs, 

Ne'er  mind  the  purfmgof  her  prow, 

But  pout  again  1  pray  you  now  : 

Is  it  not  true  that  females  lex, 
Plague,  and  perplex 

The  other  fex, 

\Vith  whimfits  in  their  heads  that  grow, 
.  And  lantilies  I  pray  you  now  ? 

Rack  poor  men's  powels,  prains,  and  heart?, 

Do  not  their  arts, 

And  whims,  and  ftarts, 

Flue  tiffles  in  their  heads  that  crow, 

And  jen'.c.ufics  I  pray  you  now  ? 

'Ii.cn  mind  not  ncnlenie  of  the  fair, 

But  change  your  air, 

And  fliakc  off  care 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          119 

N.ir  to  their  tricks  and  fancies  pow, 
But  let  them  ko  1  pray  you  now. 


••«>•••  <SS>  <S> 

BALLAD. 


I  F,  my  hearty,  you'd  not  like  a  lubber  appear, 

You  muft  very  well  know  how  to  hand,  reef,  and  fteer, 

Yet  a  better  manoeuvre  'mongft  feamen  is  found, 

'Tis  the  ti.i'i'.t  little  maxim  to  know  how  to  found  .- 

Which  afailor  can  tell  from  a  bay  to  a  flioal, 

Ikit  the  bcft  furt  of  founding  is  founding  the  bowl. 

I've  founded  at  land,  and  I've  founded  at  fea, 

I've  founded  a-  weather,  and  founded  a  lee, 

I've  founded  myquinc,  at  the  randivoo  lioufe, 

And  I've  founded  my  purfe  without  finding  a  foufe  :     " 

What  then,  we've  a  brother  in  each  honeft  foul, 

And  failors  can  nt'cr  want  for  founding  the  bowl. 

All  men  try  for  foundings  wherever  they  fleer, 

Your  nabobs  for  foundings  flrive  h:ird  in  Cape  Clear, 

And  there  is  not  a  foul  from.  the  Devil  to  the  Pope, 

That  could  live  but  for    the    founding    the   Cape   of-  Good 

Hope  : 

No  fear  then  nor  danger  our  hearts  fha'l  controul, 
Though  at  fea,  we're  in  foundings  while  founding  the  blow, 


BALLAD. 


IN  which  of  all  thy  various  joys, 
The  tongue  of  fame  that  fo  employs, 
Didl't  tliou  beft  tafte,  fay  mighty  Jove, 
The  pure,   unmix'd  delights  of  love  ? 
Not  with  Europa  : — there  rccourfc 
Thou  boldly  had'ft  to  brutal  force  ; 
Her  willies  took  with  thee  no  parr, 
She  gave  her  perfon,  not  her  heart. 
Not  with  the  beauteous  Thcban  dame, 
When  thou  aflumedcft  her  hufband's  name  ; 
For,  though  ingenious  was  the  whim. 
She  knew  not  thce,  but  thought  of  him: 


I2O         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Not  then  when  in  a  glitt'ring  {hewer 
Thou  viiit'ftDauae  in  the  tower  : 
The  gold  prevail'd  'tis  true,  and  fhe 
Yielded  to  intereft,  not  to  thcc. 
Nor  Semele,  whom  to  obey 
Thou  cam'ftin  terrible  array, 
She,  proud  one,  yielded  not  to  love, 
But  to  ambition,  and  to  Jove  : 
No  ;  'twas  Menofyne,  fweet  lair, 
Thy  joys,  indeed,  were  perfe<fl  there  , 
Joys  hadft  tliou  not,  no  bard  had  fung, 
For  thence  the  immortal  fitters  fprang. 


BALLAD. 


LIKE  a  very  gallant  will  I  compliment  all  : 

I  muft  leer  and  ogle  the  pretty, 
Tell  the  fhort  ones  they're  neat,  and  majeftic  the  tall, 

And  call  all  the  homely  on.s  witty. 
Thus  agreeable  falfehdtSd  (till  pafllng  for  truth, 

I  fhall  tickle  their  vanity  fnugly, 
Talk  of  prudence  to  age,  and  of  pieafure  to  youth, 

And  confole  with  a  fortune  the  ugly. 

To  the  pale  I'll  on  delicate  lillie*  begin, 

To  the  florid  I'll  hold  forth  on  rofes, 
Call  fquinting  a  leer,  find  a  fniilc  in  a  grin, 

Aud  proportion  where  chins  kifswith  nofes  : 
Thus  agreeable  falfehood  ftill  pafllng  for  truth, 

I'll  their  vanity  tickle  fo  fnugly, 

That   I'll   pleafe  tall  and  fliort,  fat  and  lean,  age  and 
youth, 

And  reconcile  even  the  ugly, 


BALLAD. 


IF  tars  of  their  money  are  lavifh, 

I  fay  brother  take  this  wipe  from  me, 

'  1'is  becaufe  we're  not  muckworms,  nor 
Like  lubbers  who  ne'er  go  to  fea. 


DIEDIN  S  SELECTED    SONGS.  121 

V\'hat'»  cunning,  and  fitch  quivication, 

And  them  fly  manoeuvres  to  we, 
To  be  rougilli  is  no  valuation 

To  hearties  who  plough  the  fait  fea. 
As  for  cheating  —  light  weights,  and  fhort  meafurcs, 

And  corruption,  and  bribery  d'ye  fee, 
Thefe  never  embitter  the  pleafures, 

Of  good  fellows  who  plough  the  fait  fea  : 
You've  afhore  actions,  writs,  cefTerarics, 

And  a  regiment  of  counfel  to  fee, 
Jack  knows  not  of  fuch  like  vagaries— 

We  never  truft  lawyers  at  fea-. 
'Tisfaid  that  with  grog  and  our  laiTcs, 

Becaufe  jolly  failors  are  free, 
That  money  we  fquander  like  afles, 

Which  like  horfes  we  earn'd  when  at  fea  : 
But  let  them  fay  this,  that,  or  tother, 

In  one  thing  they're  forc'd  to  agree, 
Honeft  hearts  find  a  friend  and  a  brother 

In  each  worthy  that  ploughs  the  fait  fea. 


GLEE. 


WOULD  ye  know  where  freedom  dwells, 
Where  jovial  hearts  caroufeand  fmg, 
Haunt  thefe  grots,  explore  tiiefc  celfi, 
Here  every  fuh)ect  is  a  king  ! 
Sprightly  mirth  inkabits  here, 
And  joy  that  knows  no  liftlefs  paufc  ; 
For  how  fliould  we  dull  furrow  feir, 
Who  fquare  our  lives  by  pleafure's  laws  ? 
What's  fortune!  —  is  it  chance  or  worth  ? 
Peafant  and  prince  their  race  nmfr.  run  — 
Nor  is  there  that  poor  fpot  on  earth 
Sut's  cherifh'd  by  the  genial  fun. 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE  ISLANDEXS, 


AN  infant  defcncelefs,  of  fuccour  bereft. 
On  this  rude  barren  wild  was  I  thrown, 
L 


122        DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

My  fole  ray  of  comfort  I  had  not  been  Isft, 

To  brood  o'er  my  forrow's  alone  : 
To  fee  cataracts  falling,  and  hear  lions  roar, 

Or  the  awful  loud  war  in  the  deep, 
Is  the  fate  poor  FlametU  was  born  to  deplore. 

Which  fhe  oft  would  wifh  kinder,  and  weep. 
To  all  vhis  affemblage  of  horrors  enured, 

Yi'hat  yet  greater  i!U  could  one  piove, 
Could  one   think    for   a    heart  which  had  fo  much  en 
dured, 

Fate  fiiould  ftore  up  a  torment  like  love. 
'Tis  too  much,  I've  decided,  and  who  lhall  relate 

When  her  and  her  miferies  fleep, 
The  tale  of  Flametta,  will  fure  wifh  her  fate, 
Poor  wretch,  had  been  kinder,  and  weep. 


BALLAD. 


DEVOTED  to  Celia,  and  bleft  in  her  arms, 
How  I  thrill'd  with  delights  as  I  ran  o'er  her  charms, 
When  methought  on  each  grace  as  I  gaz'd  with  furprizc, 
For  pre-eminence  pleaded  her  mouth  and  her  eyes  : 
Like  couniel  this  open'd,  and  t'other  replied, 
Appealing  to  me  as  the  judge  to  decide. 

Her  mouth  opening  fwcctly,  thus  faid  with  a  fmile, 

<  'Tis  I  whn  the  torments  of  lovers  beguile  ; 

i   I  can  fpeak,  I  can  lino,  I  can  vent  the  for.d  figh, 

c   And  vain  may  eyes  promiiV ,  if  i  fliould  xitnv  : 

i  Tiien  while  rows, of  pearls  vermeil  lipsfweetly  hide, 

c   On  our  different  charms  'twere  not  hard  to  decide." 

With  ineffable  fweetnefs,  while  looking  me  through, 

Her  eyes  c«re!efs  cried — '  Why  I  can  fpeak  too; 

*  And  in  fuch  charming  language,  fo  made  to  controul, 

•  That  of  fenli'cle  lovers  it  goes  to  the  fojjl  : 

'  Mouths  may  fib,  but  while  eyes  to  the  heart  are  the  guide, 
'  '1'wcre  no  diilu-ult  tafk  on  our  charms  to  decide. ' 
Tranfported  with  rapture;  I  cried  with  an  oath, 
'  Charming  eyes,  charming    mouth,  I'm   in    love  with  you 

'  both  : 

'  To  exprcfs  your  fweet  influence  no  language  has  term?, 
'  One  makes  me  a  promife  wliich  t'other  confirms  : 


DIBDIN   S  SELECTED   SONGS.          I 

Your  words  and  your  looks  are  my  joy  and  my  pride, 
Oil  your  diircr-ent  claims  then  how  can  1  decide  ?' 


BALLAD. 

TO  a  /light  common  wound  it  is  fome  diminution, 

Diverting  its  throbbing,   to  I'miie  at  the  linart, 
But  where's  the  firm  mind  can  boaft  fuch  refoliition, 

On  the  face  to   wear   frailer    when    the  wound  is  in  the 

heart  ? 
The  v.-and'iings  and  errors  of  folly  are  trcafon, 

And  ihould  be- condemn'd  as  diiloyal  to  love  : 
Bat  reverence  is  due  to  the  errors  o!  reafon, 

Which,  thr-Hgh   they're  a  vvcakucis,  we're  forc'd  to  ap 
prove  -• 

Then  pray  ccafe  to  jeft  :  were  my  griefs  fuperficial, 

Unconcern'd,  like  youriell  Sir,   t  merry  might  be, 
Bui:  luch  cruel  je'ls  can  but  prove  prejudicial, 

And  though  p;ifli;nc  to  you,   may  be  mortal  to  me: 
Yet  let  rne  not  wrong  you  by  any  rude  r.u'iuiou, 

Or  word  that  the  fairnds  of  candour  might  biot, 
But  gratefully  juft,  may  alone  the  intention 

in  my  me.iiory  be  cherifh'd,  iheadtion  forgot. 

BALLAD. 


''CURS'D  be  the  fordid  wretch  of  yore, 

Who  i'ro;n  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
Fir(t  drew  crude  heaps  of  finning  ore, 

Stamp'd  the  rude  mafs,  and  gave  it  worth 
Ere  yet  dHlincT-ions  and  degrees 

In  lovers  v.'ifhes  bore  a  part, 
Truiy  to  love  was  then  to  pleafe, 

And  heart  was  made  the  price  of  heart. 
Hencefort  live  lovers  nothing  hope, 

Your  fire  is  dead,  your  ardour  cold  : 
Love  lias  no  influence,  pow'r  or  fcope, 

But  that  which  it  derives  fiom  '>o!d  : 


124        DIBDIN'S   SELECTED   SCNCS, 

Long  you  may  languifh,  long  expect, 
Vows  lavifhj  vviihcp,   fighs  employ, 

A  Brittle  temple  to  erect, 

"Which  gold  can  in  an  hour  dcftro. 


BALLAD. 


PROPITIOUS  gods  that  rule  our  fate, 

Whofe  ears  are  fir'd  with  idle  praytrs 
To  banifh  ills  that  men  create, 

And  chafe  imaginary  cares  : 
And  firft  they  afk,  in  rank  and  pow'r, 

A  fate  from  every  care  exempt  ? 
Vain  bope  ! — ambition  lads  its  hour, 

Then  dwindles  into  juft  contempt. 
oN'fxt  reputation  in  the  field, 

Ueno'.vn,  and  to  be  great  in  ftory, 
In  alli'uc'i  horrid  honours  yield, 

jNJo  brother's  blood  fhall  by  my  glory. 
A  fumpuious  pace,  georgeous  hoard, 

A  tr;i:r;  of  i'ollov/ers  next  they  crave  » 
Poor  fool  !  his  guefls  retirrd,   the  lord 

Is  hut  a  foliury  flaVe. 
Next  to  their  memories  they'd  ercc~l, 

A  fl.ituc,  lading  fame  to  give  : — 
I  aO:  but  reaion,  and  expect 

My  little  pleasures  while  I  Jive. 
Happy  in  honours,  power,  wealth, 

If  you  hut  grant  my  fond  deiuc, 
Ablamdefs  heart,  unfhaken  heakii, 

My  friends,  my  bottle,  and  my  lyre. 


BALLAD. 


SUCH  love  x*  holy  hermits  bear, 

The  fhrinc  where  they  put  up  their  prayer, 

As  love  ilie  fsathcr'd  race  the  air, 

Or  ipoitive  fifi-i  the  fea  : 
.Such  as  in  brtafls  of  Seraphs  fpring. 
When  ou  the  cxpanfe  of  heav'n  they  wing 


DJBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         125 

To  greet  that  power  by  whom  they  fing, 
Such  love  I  bear  to  thee. 

Such  thankful  love  as  warm  mud  glow 
In  thofe  who  funk  in  night  and  fnow, 
When  welcome  beams  firft  faintly  fhew 

The  long-loft  fun  they  fee. 
As  pleafure  youth  comfort  the  old, 
Virtue  the  good,  or  fame  the  bold, 
As  health  the  fick,  or  mifers  gold, 

Such  love  I  bear  to  thee. 


BALLAD. 


GIVE  round  the  word  difmount,  difmount^ 

While  echoed  by  the  fprightly  horn, 
The  toils  and  pleasures  we  recount 
Of  this  fweet  hcaith-infpiring  morn. 
'Twas  glorious  Iporf,  none  e'er  did  !ag> 
Nor  drew  amifs,  nor  made  a  Hand, 
But  all  as  lirrnly  kept  their  pace, 
As  had  Aclcou  been  the  flag, 
And  we  had  hunted  by  command 
Of  the  goddefs  of  the  chace. 
The  hounds  were  out  and  fnuffed  the  air, 

And  fcarce  had  reath'd  th' appointed  fpot. 
But  pleas 'd  they  heard  a  layer,  a  layer, 
And  prcfently  drew  on  the  flot. 
'Twas  glorious  fport,  &c. 
And  now  o'er  yonder  plain  he  fleets, 

Thcdeeo-mouth'd  hounds  begin  to  bawl  : 
And  echo  note  for  note  repeats, 

While  fpright'y  herns  refound  a  call. 

'Twas  glorious  fport,  &c. 
And  now  the  Hag  has  loft  his  pace, 

And  while  war-haunch  the  huntfman  cries^, 
His  bofom  (well?,  t«tr»  wet  his  face, 
He  pants,  he  Struggles,  and  he  dies< 
'Twas glorious  Iport,  &c. 


126         BIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

BALLAD IN   THE    WAGS. 


WOULD  you  hear  a  fad  ftory  of  woe, 

That  tears  from  a  (tone  might  provoke, 
'Tis  concerning  a  tar  you  inuft  know, 

As  honeir.  as  e'er  bifcuit  broke  : 
His  name  was  Ben  Block,  of  all  men 

The  moft  true,  the  inoft  kind,  the  moft  brave, 
But  harili  treated  by  fortune,  for  Ben 

In  his  prime  found  a  watery  grave. 
His  place  no  one  ever  knew  more  : 

His  heart  was  all  kindnefs  and  lore  :• 
Though  on  duty  an  eagle  he'd  foar, 

His  nature  had  mofl  of  the  dove  : 
He  lov'd  a  fair  maiden  named  Kate, 

His  father  to  intertft  a  flave, 
Sent  him  far  from  his  love  where  hard  fat* 

Plunged  him  deep  in  a  watery  grave. 

A  curfe  on  all  flandcrous  tongue?, 

A  falfc  friend  his  .mid  nature  abufed, 
And  fweet  Kate  of  the  vilefr.  of  wrongs, 

To  poifon  Ben's  pleafure  abufed  : 
That  fhe  never  had  truly  been  kiud, 

That  falfc  were  the  tokens  fhe  gave, 
That  fhe  f  corn''.  I  him,  and  wifli'd  he  might  find, 

In  the  ocean  a  watery  grave. 

Too  fure  from  this  cankerous  elf, 

The  venom  ai-compliih'd  its  end; 
Ben,  all  t.u;h  and  honour  himfe'f, 

Sufpe<£lcd  :!O  fraud  in  his  friend  : 
On  tru  yard,   while  fufptnded  in  air, 

A  loofe  tt  his  ib:  rows  he  gave, 
Take  thy  with,  he  cried,  I'alie  cruel  fair  ; 

And  plung'd  iu  a  watery  grave. 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE   WAGS. 


TO  afk  would  you  come  for  to  go 

How  ?.  tiue-heartedtar  you'd  dlfcern, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          127 

He's  as  honeft  a  fellow  I'd  have  youto  know 
As  e'er  ftept  between  Mem  and  ftern  : 

Let  furious  winds  the  veliel  waft, 

In  his  ftation  amidlliip?,  or  fore,  or  aft, 

He  can  pull  away, 

Caft  off,  beby, 

Aloft,  alow, 

Avaft,  yo  ho  ! 

And  hand,  reef,  and  fteer, 

Know  tach  hailiard  and  jeer, 

And  of  duty  every  rig  ; 

But  his  joy  and  de.ight 

Is,  on  Saturday  night, 

A  drop  of  the  creature  to  fwig, 
Thefirfl  voyage  I  made  to  fea, 

One  day  as  I  hove  the  lead, 
The  main  top  gallant  maft  went  by  the  lee, 

For  it  blew  off  the  Devil's  Head  ; 

Tumble  up  there,  bear  a  hand,  turn  to, 

While  I,  the  foremoft  of  the  crew, 

Soon  could  pull  away, 

Caft  off,  belay, 

Aloft,  alow, 

Avaft,  yo  ho ! 

And  hand,  reef  and  fteer. 

Know  each  halliard  and  jeer, 

And  of  duty  every  rig  ; 

But  my  joy  and  delight ; 

Was.,  on  Saturday  night, 

A  drop  of  the  creature  to  fwig. 
There  was  Kit  with  a  caft  in  his  eye, 

And  Tom  with  the  timber  toe, 
And  fhambling  Will,  fur  he  hobbled  awry, 

All  wounded  a  righting  the  toe  : 

Three  lads  though  crazy  grows  and  crank, 

As  true  as  ever  buiiibo  drank, 

For  they'd  pull  away, 

Caft  off,  belay, 

Aloft,  alow, 

Avaft,  yo  ho  ! 

And  hand,  reef,  and  fleer, 

Know  each  halliard  and  jser. 

And  of  duty  every  rig; 

Aad  their  joy  and  delight 


128         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

Was,  on    Saturday  night, 

A  drop  of  the  creature  to  fwig. 
Then  over  life's  fortune  I'll  jog, 

Let  the  l>orm  or  the  Spaniards  come  on, 
So  but  fea  room  I  get,  and  a  flcin  full  of  grog-, 

Ifear  neither  devil  nor  don  : 

For  I'm  the  man  that's  fprac}  and  daft, 

In  my  flation  amidihips,  or  fore,  or  aft, 

I  can  pull  away, 

Caft  off,  belay. 
Aloft,  alow, 
Avaft,  yo  ho  ! 
And  hand,  reef,  and  fleer, 
Know  each  halliard  and  jeer, 
And  of  duty  cverv  rig, 
But  my  joy  and  delight 
la,  on  Saturday  night, 
A  drop  of  the  creature  to  fwig. 


••<>-  «4>~^<& 

BALLAD — IN  THE  WAGS. 


WE  bipeds,  made  up  of  frail  clay, 

Alas  are  the  children  of  forrow  ; 
And  though  brifk  and  r.icrrv  to-day, 

We  all  may  be  wretched  to-morrow  : 
For  funfhiue's  fuccee.-ted  by  rain, 

Then  fearful  01  life's  ftormy  weather, 
Left  p'eafure  fhould  only  bring  uain, 

Let  us  all  be  happy  together. 

I  grant  the  beft  buffings  we  know- 
Is  a  friend,  for  true  fricn  1-hip's  a  treafure, 

And  yet,  left  your  friend  prove  a  foe, 
Oh  hafte  not  the  dangerous  pleafure  : 

Thus  frienufbip's  a  flirrifey  affair, 
Thus  riches  and  health  are  a  bubble, 

Tli us  there's  nothing  delightful  but  care, 
Nor  any  thing  pleafin^  but  trouble. 

If  a  mortal  would  point  out  that  life 

Which  on  earth  cou'd  be  ncareft  to  heaven. 
Let  him,  thaj king  his  fta'rs,  chufe  a  wife 
To  whom  truth  and  honour  are  given  ; 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED   SONGS.       129 


But  honour  and  truth  are  fo  rare, 
And  horns,  when  they're  cutting,  fo  tingle, 

That,  with  all  my  refpecl  to  the  fair 
I'd  advife  him  to  figh  ami  live  (ingle. 

It  appears  from  thcfe  prtmifes  plain 
That  wifdom  is  nothing  but  folly, 

That  pleafure's  a  term  that  means  pain, 
And  that  joy  is  your  true  melancholy  : 

That  all  thofe  whe  laugh  ought  to  cry, 
That  'tis  fine  frifk  and  fun  to  be  grieving, 

And  that  (trice  we  mil  ft  all  of  us  die, 
We  fhould  tafte  no  enjoyment  while  living 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE    WAGS. 


ADIEU,  adieu,  my  only  life, 

My  honour  calls  me  from  thee, 
Remember  thou'rt  a  ibldier's  wife, 

Thofe  tears  but  ill  become  thcc  ; 
What  though  by  duly  !  a-n.  called, 

Where  thund'ring  cannon*  rattle, 
Where  valour's  felf  might  Hand  appalled, 
When  on  the  wings  of  thy  d:ar  love 
To  heaven  above 
Thy  fervent  orifoB!  are  flown, 
Tite  tender  prayer 
Thou  put'ft  up  there 
Shall  ca!l  a  guardian  angel  down, 

To  watch  rae  in  the  battle. 
My  fafe;y  thy  fair  truth  (hall  be,   ' 

Asfword  and  buckler  fee  vino, 
Sly  life  iliall  be  more  dear  to  me, 

Ikcaufe  of  thy  preserving : 
Let  peril  come,  let  horror  threat, 

Let  thundering  cannons  rattle, 
I'll  fearlefs  feek  the  conflicts  heat, 

Allured  when  on  the  wings  of  love 

To  heaven  above,  &c. 

Enough,  with  that  benignant  finilc 
^ojne  kincired  god  inipir'd  thec, 


130          DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONG-S, 

Who  knew  thy  bofom  void  of  guile, 

Who  wondered  and  admired  thee  : 
I  go  affured,  my  life  adieu, 

Though  t  i.r.nderiiig  cannons  rattle, 
Though  murdering  carnage  ft.iik  in  view, 

When  on  ihe  wings  of  thy  true  love 

To  heaven  above,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN    THE   WAGS. 


I  BE  one  of  they  fdi'ors  who  thinks  'tis  no  He, 
That  f:r  every  wherefore  of  life  there's  a  why, 
That  be  fortune's  ftrange  weather,  a  calm  or'a  fqualF, 
Our  births-',  good  or  bad,  are  chaifc'd  out  fur  us  all : 
That  the  flays,  and  the  braces  ol  life  xvill  be  found 
To  be  fame  of  'em  rotten  and  fome  of  'em  found, 
That  the  good  we  fhouid  cherii'h,  the  bad  never  feek, 
For  deatu  uill  too  foon  bring  each  anchor  a-peak. 
When  aflridc  on  the  yard,  they  top-lifts  they  let  gn, 
And  I  com'd,  like  a  Ihof,  piir.r.j,  ariumg  'cm  below. 
Why  I  cotch'd  at  a  halliard,  and  jump'd  upon  deck, 
And  fo  broke  my  fall,  to  favc  breaking  my  neck: 
Juft  like  your philofopher?j    for  all  their  jaw, 
Who  Icfs  than  a  rope,  gladly  catch  at  a  ftraw  ; 
Thus  the  good  we  Ihould  cheritl,  the  bad  never  feek, 
For  death  will  too  foon  bring  each  anc'hor  a-peak. 
Why  now  that  ihere  cruifethat  we  made  ofFthe  banks, 
Where  I  pepper'd  the  foe,  aiul  got  fhot  for  my  thanks, 
What  then  Ihe  foon  flrack,  and  though   crippled  on  fliorc, 
And  laid  up  to  rent,   I  had  fhiuers  galore : 
At  length  live  and  looking,  I  tried  the  falfe  main, 
And  to  get  ir.ore  prize  ironey,  got  flict  at  jgain  : 
Thus  thfe  good  we  fhould'cherilh,  the  bad  never  feek, 
For  death  will  toe  foon  brin*  each  anchor  a-pcak.     ' 

Then  juft  as  it  comes,  take  the  bad  with  the  good, 
One  man's  fpoon's  made  of  filvcr,  another's  of  weed, 
What's  [  oifon  for  one  Iran's  another  man's  balm, 
Some  are  lafe  in  a  dorm,  and  fome  loft  in  a  calm  : 
Seme  are  rolling  in  riches,  fome  not  worth  a  for.lt... 
To-day  we  eat  beef,  and  to-morro\v  lobs-foufc  : 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.        131 

Thus  the  good  we  fliould  cherifh,  the  bad  never  fork, 
For  death  will  toofoon  bring  each  anchor  a-pcu'c. 


BALLAD IN    THE    WAGS. 

The  fun's  clcfcending  in  the  wave, 
1  go,  I  go,  my  fate  to  brave  : 
Ghollsoi'dead  yncas  now  appear, 
Shriek  as  ye  come 
Cold  from  the  tomb, 
And  fee  if  Moniaco  knows  to  fear, 
Oh  fun  my  fire  ! 
Lend  me  ail  thy  noble  fire  : 
Illia  Moniaco  to  Phy  tomb, 
Oh  Atabalipa  foon  fliall  come  ; 
Cover  me  with  fears, 
Nought  can  controul 
The  duuntlefs  foul, 

That  fliall  live  among  its  kindred  ftars. 
What  it's  to  di?  ?  to  leave  this  clay, 

And  breathe  in  evcrlafting  day, 

For  robes  celeftia!  fliake  ofFduft, 
Among  the  blcft 
From  care  to  reft, 

And  emulate  ihe  virtues  of  the  juft  : 

Then  fun,  my  lire, 

Lend  me  all  thy  noble  fire, 

Illia  Moniaco,   &c. 

Adieu  ye  friends,  vain  world  adieu, 

Blifs  is  for  me,  but  woe  for  yon  : 

While  I,  new  born,  fliall  go  to  find 
The  upper  heaven 
You  fhail  he  driven, 

Like  featured  chaff,  before  falfe  fortune's  wind, 

Now  fun,  my  fire, 

I  feel,  I  '"ccl  rhy  noble  fire  ! 

Illia  Moniaco,   &c. 

BALLAD IN   THE   WAGS. 


I  WAS  the  pride  of  all  the  Thames, 
My  name  was  natty  jerry, 


1J2  DJBDIN  S  SELECTED    SONGS. 

The  beft  of  fmarts  and  flafhy  dame* 

I've  carried  in  my  wherry  : 
For  then  no  mortal  foul  like  me 

So  merrily  did  jog  it, 
I  lav'd  my  wife  and  friend,  d'ye  fee, 

And  won  the  prize  of  Dogget : 
In  coat  and  badge,  fo  neat  and  fpruce, 

I  row'd  al'  blithe  and  merry, 
And  every  waterman  did  ufe 

To  call  me  happy  Jerry. 
But  times  foon  changed,  I  went  to  fc», 

My  wife  and  friend  betray'd  me, 
And  in  my  abfcnce  treacherously 

Some  pretty  frolics  play'd  me  : 
Return'd,  I  uitd  them  like  a  man, 

But  ftill  'twas  fo  provoking, 
I  could  not  enjoy  my  very  can, 

Nor  even  fancy  fmoaking  : 
In  tamifh'd  badge,  and  coatfo  queer, 

No  l»nger  blithe  and  merry. 
Old  friends  now  parted  me  with  a  fncer, 

And  called  me  clifmal  Jerry. 

At  fea,  as  with  a  dangerous  wound,' 

I  lay  under  the  furgeons, 
Two  friends  each  help  I  wanted  found 

In  every  emergence  : 
Soon  after  my  fweet  friend  and  wife 

Into  this  mefs  had  brought  me, 
Thefe  two  kind  friends  who  fav'd  my  life 

In  my  misfortunes  fought  me  : 
We're  come  cried  they,  that  once  again 

In  coat  and  badge  fo  merry, 
Your  kind  old  friends,  the  watermen, 

May  hail  you  happy  Jerry. 

I'm  Peggy,  once  your  foul's  defire, 

To  whom  you  prov'd  a  rover, 
Who  fince  that  time  iu  man's  attire 

Have  fought  you  the  world  over  : 
And  I,  cried  t'other,  am  that  Jack 

When  boys  you  ufedfo  badly, 
Though  now  the  bed  friend  to  your  back 

Then  prithee  look  not  fadly  : 


D1BDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Few  words  are  beft,  I  feiz'd  their  hards, 
My  greatful  heart  grew  merry, 

And  now  in  love  and  fiienr  hip's  band?, 
I'm  once  more  happy  Jerry. 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE   WAGS, 

BOLD  Jack  the  failor  here  I  come, 

Pray  how  d'ye  like  my  nib, 
My  trowfers  wide,  ray  trampers  rum, 

My  nab,  and  flowing  jib  : 
I  fails  the  feas  from  end  to  end, 

And  leads  a  joyous  life. 
In  every  mefs  L  find  a  friend, 

In  every  port  a  wife. 
I've  heard  them  talk  of  conftancy, 

Of  grief,  and  fuch  like  fun, 
I've  conftant  been  to  ten,  cried  I, 

But  never  grieved  for  one  : 
The  flowing  fails  we  tars  unbend, 

To  lead  a  jovial  life, 
In  every  mefs  to  find  a  friend, 

In  every  port  a  wife. 
I've  afpanking  wife  at  Portfmouth  gates, 

A  pigmy  at  Goree, 
An  orange  tawny  up  the  Straits; 

A  black  at  6t.  Lucia  : 
Thus  v/hatfomedevcr  courfe  I  bend, 

I  leads  a  jovial  life, 
In  every  mefs  I  find  a  friend,         ^ 

In  every  port  a  wife. 
Will  Gaft,  by  Death,  was  ta'en  aback, 

I  came  to  brink  the  news, 
?oll  whimper'd  fore,  but  what  did  Jack  ? 

Why,  flood  in  William's  flioes  . 
She  cut,   I  chafed,  but  in  the  end 

She  lov'd  me  as  her  life, 
And  fo  flie  got  an  honeft  friend, 

And  I  a  loving  wife. 
Thus  be  we  Jailors  all  the  go, 

On  fortune's  fea  we  rub, 
M 


ij4         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

We  works,  and  loves,  and  fights  the  foe, 

And  drinks  the  gcntrous  bub  : 
Storms  that  the  ma.il  to  fpiinteis  rend, 

Can't  lhakc  our  jovial  life, 
In  every  mcf«  we  find  a  friend, 

lu  every  port  a  wife. 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE    WAGS. 


HARK  the  din  of  diftant  war, 

How  noble  is  the  clangor, 
Pale  death  afcend  his  ebon  car, 

Clad  in  terrific  anger  : 
A  doubtful  fate  the  loldier  trits. 

Who  joins  the  gallant  quarrel  : 
Perhaps  on  the   cold  ground  he  lies, 
No  wife,  no  friend,  to  clofe  his  eyes, 
Though  nobly  mourn'd, 
Perhaps  return'd, 

He's  crown'd  with  victory's  laurel. 
How  many  who,  difdaining  fear, 

Rufh  on  the  defperate  duty, 
Shall  claim  the  tribute  of  the  tear 

That  dims  the  eye  of  beauty  ? 

A  doubtful  fate,   £c. 
What  nobler  fate  can  fortune  give  ? 

Renown  lliall  tell  our  ftory, 
If  we  fliould  fall,   but  if  we  !ivc, 

We  live  our  country's  glory. 

'Tis  true  a  doubtful  fate,  &c. 


BALLAD — IN  THE  WAGS. 


THE  wind  was  hufli'd,  the  ftorm  was  over, 

Unfurl'd  was  every  flowing  fail, 
From  toil  releafed,  when  Dick  of  Dover, 

Went  with  his  mcfTmatcs  to  regale  : 
All  danger's  o'er,  cried  he,  my  neat  heart*, 

Drown  care  then  in  the  fmiling  c;m, 
Come  b.  ar  a  hand,  let's  toad  our  fweethearts, 

Aud  {hit  I'll  give  you  buxom  Nan. 


DIBDIN   S  SELECTED   SONTGS.  135 

She's  none  of  thofc  that's  always  g'g^'-iig, 

And  Item  and  ,'t.rn  made  up  oi  art  .- 
O'lc  knows  ;>  ;icr  rigging, 

Such  ever  ilighr  a  coni'U.i;  ii.ait  : 
With  iiraw  hat  and  pink  ftrramers  flowing, 

II;>\v  olt  to  meet  ine  has  ilic  mi  ; 
\V  hile  ior  dear  life  would  1  be  rowii.g, 

To  mjet  with  fmiies  my  buxom  Nan, 
Jack  Jollyboat  went  to  the  Indies, 

To  ice  him  flare  when  lie  cane  back, 
The  girls  were  all  oil"  of  the  hinges 

His  Poll  was  quite  unknown  to  Jack  : 
Taut  matted  all,  to  lee  who's  tallelt, 

Bre;illworks,  top  gant-iails,  and  a  fan, 
Meflaiate,  cried  I,  more  fail  than  ballaft, 

Ah  (till  give  me  my  buxom  Nan. 
None  in  life's  fca  can  fail  more  quicker, 

To  ihew  her  love,  or  J'erve  a  friend, 
But  hold,  I'm  preaching  o'er  my  liquor, 

Tftis  one  word  theu,  and  tlu-re's  an  end; 
Of  all  the  wenches  \vhatib;nedv;ver, 

1  fay  then  find  me  out  who  can 
One  half  fo  tight,  fo  kind  fo  clever, 

Sweet,  trim,  and  neat  as  buxom  Nan. 


BALLAD  -  IN     THE    WAGS. 

I^OVELY  woman,  pride  of  nature, 

Good,  and  ftveet,  and  kind,  and  fair 
Than  nvaji  a  higher  ftile  of  creature, 

Perfevft  as  celelHnls  are: 
S;e  ilyra  come,  like  ftateiy  Juno, 

Ever  fair,  and  ever  young, 
Completely  like,  as  I  and  you  know, 

For  Myra,  like  Juno,  has  a  tongue. 

Young  Celia's  charms  that  beam  fo  fwcetly, 

To  paint  ah  what  can  words  avail, 
She's  Venus'  fclf,  an  1  fo  completely, 

That  Celia  is,  like  Venus,  frail  : 
TD  woo  the  charming  Gloriana, 

Audacity  would  ftand  afraid  ; 
She  chafte  and  icy  as  Diana, 

And,  like  Diana,  an  old  maid. 


136 


BIEDIN S    SELECTED    SONGS 


Thus  women  bouft  a  near  relation, 
'Tin  p;ain  to  the  celeftial  race, 

Thus  we  oi  their  divine  crefticn 
A  family  i  eicmblance  trace  : 

If  tl".  n  ibiiie  hu.ks  or  thisi  complexion, 
i'j.ots  upon  liiat  iiiii,  their  fame, 

Rult  tiiis  Un>e  inouci  oi  perfection, 
"I  lie  ihi.s,  no'  women,  ire  to  bia:r.e. 


BALLAD  —  IN    THE   WAGS. 

Two  real  tars,  whom  duty  calJ'd 

To  watch  in  the  foretop, 
Thus  one  another  orerbiul'd 

And  took  a  chteting  drop  : 
I  fay,  Will  Hatchway,  cried  Tom  TO\Y, 

Gi  contiticT:  what's  your  fort, 
As  throujrh  the  vny;\kc  of  .ife  you  go. 

Ti>  I^.'ing  von  ,'r.Je  to  port  ? 
Critd  Jack",  you  lubber,  don't  you  know  ? 

Our  pailionsflpie  to  reef, 
To  (tec:-  v  here  honour  points  the  prow, 

To  hand  a  friend  relief: 
Theft  anchors  get  but  in  your  power, 

Mv  iifefor't  that's  your  fort  ; 
The  "bower,  the  flieet,  and  the  I:  eft  bower 

Shall  bring  you  up  in  port. 
Why  then  you're  out,  and  there's  an  end, 

Tom  cried  out  blunt  and  rough, 
Ee  £0od,  be  honeft,  ferve  a  friend, 

Be  maxims  well  enough  : 
Who  fwabs  his  hows  at  other's  woe, 

'1  ha.t  tarV  for  n.e  your  fort, 
His  veiiel  right  a-hea<l  iliall  go 

To  find  a  joyful  port. 

Let  ftorms  of  life  upon  IMC  prcfs, 

Mirft-rtuncs  makes  me  ree', 
Why,  dani'nie,  what's  ir.y  ov.n  diRrefs  r 

For  others  let  me  feel  : 
Av,  ay,  \i  l;ounc  \\ith  a  frefli  gale 

Te  heaven  this  is  your  i'ort, 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS. 

A  handkerchief's  the  beft  wet  fail 
To  bring  you  fafe  to  port. 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE   WAGS. 


I'M  dafliing  Dick  the  duftman, 

N-ine  my  calling  can  degrade, 
Fur  I  am  not  the  firfl  man 
,    Who  has  driv'n  ;i  dirty  trade  : 
Duft  ho  !  duft  ho  !   I  rings  my  bell  and  cries, 

My  tricks,  if  you  would  find  'em, 
Pretty  early  you  mufl  rife, 
For  watch  me  dill, 
Howe'er  you  will, 
I  bears  off  many  a  prize, 

And  when  f  wants  to  blind  'em, 
I  throws  duft  in  their  eyes. 
Why  what's  your  man  of  honour  ? 
And  what's  your  madam  fame  ? 
A  ji't  when  he  has  won  her, 

That  proves  a  dirty  name  : 
Victory  !  victory!  each  draws  his  fword  and  criei; 

In  ihe  midft  of  (laughter  find  him, 
See  where  the  favage  flies^ 
He  fparcs  no  life, 
No  friend,  nor  wife, 
Where'er  he  finds  a  prize. 

Till  lieath,  at  Jaft,  to  blind  him, 
Throws  duft  in  his  eyes. 
The  lawver,  the  phyfician, 

And  e'en  the  icarn'd  divine, 
Each  drive:,  m  his  condition, 

As  black  a  trade  as  mine  : 
Fees  ho  !  fees  ho  !  each  draws  his  purfe  and  cries, 

The'r  conference  can't  bind  'em; 
The  wretched  patient  dies, 
All  prayers  fail, 
While  in  a  jail, 
The  ruin'd  client  lies, 

Un!efs  you  throw  to  blind  'eA 
Gold  duft  in  their  eyes. 


138         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

And  fo,  d'ye  fee,  men  hurtle,- 

Tofcc  who's  dirty  firft, 
And  one  another  huft'e, 

And  all  to  raifc  the  duft  : 
Duft  ho  !  duft  ho  !  each  draws  his  purfe  and  cries^ 

And  he,  Old  Nick,  behind  him, 
Will  take,  to  mount  up  tries, 
All  fcr ambling  go, 
Both  friend  and  foe, 
To  bear  away  fome  prize, 

And  each  throws  duft  to  blind  him 
Plump  iu  his  neighbours  eyes. 


1 IN    THE    WA6S. 

IF  bold  and  brave  thou  can'ft  not  bear, 

Thyfelf  from  all  thou  lov'if  to  tear, 

If,  while  winds  war,  and  billows  roll, 

A  fpark  of  fear  invade  thy  foul, 

If  thou'it  appall'd,  when  cannons  roar, 

I  priihee  imiTmate  ftay  afhore  : 

There,  like  a  lubber, 

Whine  and  blubber, 

Still  for  thy  cafe  and  fafety  bufy, 

!Nor  dare  to  come, 

Where  honel't  Tom, 

And  Ned,  and  Nick, 

And  Ben,  and  Phil, 

And  Jack,  and  Dick, 

And  Bob,  and  Bill, 

AH  weathers  fmg,  and  drink,  die  fcviEr.y: 

]f,  fliould'ft  thou  lofe  a  limb  in  fight, 
She  who  made  up  thy  heart's  cleHyhr, 
Poor  recompcHce  that  thou  art  khid, 
Shall  prove  inconflant  a,'  the  wind, 
If  fuch  haul  fortune  thou'ft  deplore, 
I  prithee  mcffmate  ftayafhore, 
There  like  a  lubber,  <5<c. 
If  pris'ncr  in  a  foreign  land, 
JJo  friend,  no  money  at  command, 
That  man  thou  trufted  hadft  alone, 
^11  knowledge  of  thee  faould  diibwn  i 


BIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          139 

If  this  fliould  vex  thec  to  the  core, 
I  prithee  meffhiate  ftay  afhore. 
There  like  a  lubber,  &c. 

..<>._..<»..  <s><s><^,  <••<>-  MO- 
BALLAD IN  THE  WAGS. 


WHY  don't  you  know  me  by  my  fears  ? 
I'm  foidier  Dick  come  from  the  wars; 
Where  many  a  head  without  a  hat 
Crowds  honour's  lied  —  but  what  of  that  ? 
Beat  drums,  olay  fifes,  'tis  glory  calls, 
Wh.it  argufies  who  fland*  or  falls; 
Lord  what  fhould  one  be  fori  y  for  ? 
Life's  but  the  fortune  of  the  war  : 
Then  rich  or  poor,  or  well,  or  fick, 
Still  laugh  and  !ing  fliall  foidier  Dick, 

I  ufed  to  look  two  ways  at  once, 

A  bullet  hit  me  on  the  fcon.x, 

And  dowfh'd  my  eye,  d'ye  think  I'd  wince 

Why  lord  I've  never  fquinted  fincer 

Beat  drums,  &c. 

Some  diftant  keep  from  war's  alarms, 
For  fear  of  wooden  le£»  and  arms, 
W.'ule  others  die  fafe  in  their  beds 
Who  all  their  lives  had  wooden  heads. 

Beat  I'rums,  &c. 

Thus  gout  or  fever,  fword  or  fhot, 
Or  fomething  fends-  ns  all  to  pot  : 
That  we're  to  die  then  do  not  grieve, 
But  let's  be  ir.erry  while  we  live. 

Beat  drums,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  WAGS, 

AVERT  yon  omen,  gracious  heaven, 

T!*e  ugly  feud, 
By  rifrig  winds  refifUefs  driven, 

KilTes  the  flood. 
How  hard  the  lot  for  failor's  cart, 

That  thiy  fhould  roam 
For  years,  to  ncriia  Uiua  at  lafl 

lo  fyht  ol  iiomc  ! 


140       DIBDIN'S  SELECTED 

For  if  the  coming  gale  \ve  mourn, 

A  tempel}  grows, 
Our  reffcl's  fhatter'd  fo  and  torn, 

That  down  fhe  goes  ! 
Thetempefl  comes,  while  meteors  red 

Portentous  flv  ; 
And  now  we  touch  old  ocean's  bed, 

Now  reach  the  fky  ! 
On  fable  wings,   in  gloomy  flight, 

Fiends  feem  to  wait, 
To  fnatch  us  in  this  dreadful  night, 

Dark,  as  our  fate  : 
Unlefs  fome  kind,  fome  pitying  pow'r 

Should  inttrpofe, 
She  labours  fo  within  this  hour 
Down  flie  goes. 

But  fee,  on  rofy  pinions  borne, 

O'er  tht  mad  d*_tp, 
Reluctant  beams  the  forr'wing  morn, 

With  us  to  wicp  : 
Dectitful  forrow,  cheerlefs  light, 

Dreadfu'  to  think, 
The  morn  is  ris'n,  in  endlefs  night, 

Our  hopes  to  fink! 
She  fplits!  fhe  parts  !  —  through  fluices  driveo, 

The  water  flows  ; 
Adieu  ye  friends,  have  mercy  heaven! 

For  down  ilie  goes  ! 


RONDEAU—  IN    THE   WAGS. 

ONE  negro,  wi  my  banjcr, 
Me  from  Jenny  c'>ine, 
Wid  cunning  yiei 
Me  favez  fpy     . 
De  buckra  world  one  hum, 
As  troo  a  ftrtet  a  Granger 

Me  my  banjer  ftrum  : 

My  miffy  for  one  black  dog  about  the  houfe  me  Hclc, 
Him  fay,  my  nalTy  tawny  face  enc-ugh  to  make  him  f;ck 
But  when  my  maiTa  he  go  out,  ilie  then  no  longer  rail, 
For  ftrft  me  let  the  captain  in,  and  then  me  tell  no  tale  t 


t)IBDIN  S   SELECTED    SCNGS.  14! 

So  aunt  Qrafhy  fay, 
Do  tabby,   brown,  or  black,  or  white, 
You  fee  urn  in  one  night, 

Every  f>;rt  of  cat  be  gray. 
One  Negro,  Sec. 

To  fetch  a  lily  money  hack,  you  jj°  to  law  they  call, 
The  court  and  ail  the  tic-wig  foon  fhip  you  llurt  and  all; 
The  courtier  c^il  him  friend  and  foe, 

And  fifty  ftory  tell, 
To  day  fay  yes,  to  morrow  no, 

And  'ie  like  any  hell  : 
And  fo  though  nt^ro  I) lack  for  true, 
He  black  in  buckra  country  too. 
One  negro,   &c. 


BALLAD IN    THE    WAGS. 

BART>3  call  themfeh-es  a  hct-v'aly  race, 

Topers  find  heaven  in  wine, 
We  truly  b  ;aft  who  love  the  chafe, 

An  origin  divine. 
The  deities  all  hunters  are  : 

Great  Jove,   who  fpends  his  lif« 
In  hunting  of  the  willing  fair, 

Is  hunted  by  his  wife. 
Then  come  and  wake  the  drowfy  morn, 

While  the  fwtft  g-ame  we  follow  : 
The  feather'd  throng  and  tuneful  horn 

ShM  join  the  hunter's  hollow. 
Gay  Bacchus,  ou  his  tun,  that  hack, 

Toafts  for  view  hollowj  gives, 
While  Mercury,  with  his  Bow-flfCCt  pack, 

Srou-s  heav'n  ro  hunt  for  thieves  : 
Bold  ?.i:;rs,  a  blood  hound,  hunts  for  fame, 

Nor  till  its  lateft  breath, 
Will  he  e'er  leave  the  panting  game, 

But  comes  in  at  the  death. 

Then  come,  &c. 
Diana  in  her  f^cred  grove 
Saw  raih  A.'teon  near, 
A.-ir1  though  flic  fcem'd  vo  fcorn  lii*  !o\'f} 

ite  Look  hua  for  Lt;r  deer-; 


142         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Yet  vex'd  to  think  this  hint  fo  fly 

On  the  fooi  flic  could  not  pais, 
From  his  own  hands  ihe  made  him  fly 

And  kiii'd  him  for  aa  afs. 
Then  come,   £c. 

Great  Juno,  \vretchcd,   rcftlefs  fair, 

On  jealous  fury  bent, 
Still  in  full  cry  is  hunting  care, 

And  flill  on  a  wrong  iccnt. 
Indeed  the  fair  oil  mount  their  nag, 

By  the  hunting  mania  ilruck, 
And  if  AcUon  was  a  flag, 

Poor  Vulcan  was  a  buik. 

Then  come,  &c. 

RONDEAU — IN  THE  WACS. 

WHILE  whim,  and  <ilee,  and  left.  ?nH  c.M^ 
-^lipidy  their  charming  trcaliire, 

Mingling  in  gay   laughter's   throng, 
Come  to  tlic  camp  of  [.leafure. 

All  human  beings  have  their  cares, 

Life's   made    of  joy    and    forrow; 
To  balance  life  then  our  affairs 

Should  of  our  pleaiures  borrow : 
Youth's  joy's  feafon,  fo  is  age, 

Each  temper,  fex,  comp'exion, 
In    mirth   may    harmlefsly    engage, 

As  well  as  ia  reflection. 

While  whim,  &c. 

You  who  proudly  roll  in  wealth, 

You   whofe   means   are  flender, 
You  whofe  lungs  proclaim  your  health, 

You  whofe  frames  are  tender  : 
Ton  who  wear  grave  vviidom's  wigs, 

You  who  deal  in  folly, 
You  who  merry  are  a*  gn'gc, 

You  who  are  rm!ancLoi>  : — 

While  whim,  &c. 

Where's  amon,;(l  th^m  all  the  cynic  eif, 
Of  joy  the  open  f corner, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.        143 

But  doff'd  the  fage,  and  to  himfelf 

Took  piea^ure  in  a  corner  ? 
In  Ihort  who  fets  up  to  defpife 

Tliofc  joys  the  mirth  awaken^ 
I  will  not  rudely  fay  he  lies, 

But   furely  he's   mi  (taken. 

While  whim,  &c. 

BALLAD IN   THE    WAGS. 


THE  tat's  a  jolly  tar  that  can  hand,  reef,  and  fleer, 

That  can  nimbly  cart  off  and  belay, 
Who  in  d<trkeft  of  nights  finds  each  halliard  and  jceij 
And  dead  reck'ning  knows  well  and  lee  way : 
But  the  tar  to  pleafe  me, 
More  joily  muft  be, 

He  mu(t  laugh  at  the  waves  as  they  roar ; 
He  muft  rattle, 
And  in  battle 
Brave  danger  and  dying, 
Though  bullets   are  flying, 
And  fifty  things  more  : 
Singing,  quaffing, 
Dancing  laughing, 
Take  it  cherrily, 
And  merrily, 

And  ail  for  the  fake  of  his  girl  afliore. 
The  tar's    a  jolly  tar  who  his  rhino  will  fpcnd, 

Who  np  for  a  mcfTmate  will  bring, 
IVr  we  failors  all  thiuk  he  that's  true  to  his  frici.A 
Will  never  be  falfe  to  his  king. 
But  the  tar  to  pleaie  me, 
More  jolly  mull  be, 
He  mufl  venture  for  money  galore/ 
Ailing  duly, 
Kind  and  truly, 
And  nobly  inherit 
A   generous   fpirit, 
A  prudent  one  more; 
Singing,  laughing, 
Dancing,  quaffing, 
Take  it  cherrily, 


144  IH'B  DIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

And  merily, 

And  fave  up  his  cafji  for  his  girl  afliorc. 
The   tar's  a  jslly  tar  who  love?   a   beauty   bright, 

And   at    fea   often   thinks  of  her   charms, 
Who  toafls  her  with  g\et   on  a  Saturday  night, 
And  willies  her  moor'd  in  his  arms  : 
But  the  tar  to  pleafe  me 
More  jolly  mufl  be, 

Though  teaz'd  at  each  port  by  a  fcorcj 
He  muft,  filtering 
At  their  leering, 
Never  ftudy  to  delight  'em, 
But  fcorn  'em,  and  flight  'cm, 
Still  true  to  the   core; 
Singing,  laughing, 
Dancing    quaffing, 
Take  it  cherrily, 
And  merrily. 
And  conltant  return  to  his  girl  afliorc. 


BALLAD—    IN    THE    WAGS. 


/.       remov'd  from  noife  and  fmoak, 
Hark  .  hear  the  woodman's  fhoke, 
Who  dreams  not  as  lie  fell*  the  oak, 

What  mifchicf  dire  he  brews. 
How  art  lliall  fliape  his  falling  trees, 
For  aid  of  luxury  and  eafe, 
He  weighs  net  matters  fuch  as  tlicfe, 

But  ling?,  and  hack,s,  and  hews. 
Perhaps,  now  fe'.l'd  by  this  bold  man, 
That  tree  fliall  form  the  fprucc  fedan, 
Or  wheelbarrow,  where  oyfter  Nan 

So  runs  her  vulgar  rig; 
The  ftage  where  boxers  crowd  in  flocks, 
Or  elfe  quacks,  perhaps,  the  flocks, 
Or  ports  for  ligns,  or  barbtr's  blocks, 

Where  fTnile*  the  parfon's  wig. 
Thou  mak'ft  bold  peafant,  oh  what  grief, 
The  gibbet  on  which  hangs  the  thief, 
The  feat  where  fits  the  great  Lord  Chief, 
The- throne,  the  cobler's  flail : 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS,       145 


Thou  puropcr'ft  life  in  every  ftage, 
Malc'fi:  folly's  whims,  pride's  equipage, 
For  children  toys,  crutches  for  age, 

And  coffins  for  us  all. 
Yet  juftice  let  us  (till  afford, 
Thefe  chairs,  and  this  convivial  board, 
The  bin  that  holds  gay  Bacchus'  hoard, 

Confefs  the  woodman's  (troke  : 
He  made  the  prefs  that  bled  the  vine, 
The  butt  that  holds  the  generous  wine, 
The  hall  itfelf,  where  tiplers  join, 

To  crack  the  mirthful  joke. 


VAUXHALL  BALLAD—  IN  THE  WAGS. 


TIME  was,  for  oh  there  was  a  time, 

Sweet  Phoebe  by  my  fide, 
The  fofteft  verfe  1  fung  in  rhime, 

Where  falling  pools  do  glide: 
But,  Phoebe  hence,  I'm  left  alone, 

Nor  verfe  nor  rhime  can  pleafe, 
And  pools  fUnd  flill  to  fee  me  moan, 

In  whifpers  through  the  tree*. 
The  pride  of  laughing  nature  flood 

In  fertile  heaths  con ftff'd, 
"When  bird*,  in  yon  impervious  wood. 

With  Phoebe  faw  me  blcfK 
But  laughing  nature's  now  in  tears. 

The  heaths  begin  to  mourn, 
Birds  hoot  in  my  melodious  ears, 

For  Phoebe's  glad  return. 

To  fliun  fierce  fol's  meridian  heat, 

Upon  yon  verdant  green, 
How  oft,  at  clofe  of  eve,  I'd  meet, 

Sweet  Phcebe,  beauty's  queen  : 
But  loft  the  fun  fhine  of  her  charms, 

The  verdant  green's  all  brown, 
And  1,  with  nothing  in  my  arms, 

Lie  hard  on  beds,  of  down. 
Then  come  fweet  fair,  and  leave  bchiiul 

All  forrow,  pain,  and  woe, 
N 


146  DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

The  birds  dial!  fmile,  and  the  north  wind 

Like  Boreas  gently  blow  : 
So  {hall  the  daily-mantling  ereen, 

The  covvflip-iHidded  broolr, 
In  fable  robes  all  criinfon  i'cen, 

Reflecl:  each  azure  look. 


BALLAD 


IN   THE  WAGS. 


SO  fweet  I'll  drefs  my  Zootka  fair, 

Such  pretty  toys  her  charms  fhall  deck, 
The  nails  of  foes  fhall  grace  her  hair, 

Their  eyes  and  teeth  adorn  her  neck  : 
A  hut  I'll  build  her  of  catalps, 
And  fvveetly  lung  it   round  with  fcalps, 
And  as  we  frantic  fkip  and  fing, 
And  join  to  form  the  myftic  ring, 
And  fymbals  twang, 
And  tymbals  bang, 
And  jump  and  prance, 
And  f  -iik  in  v/ediock's  devious  dance, 
We'll  drink  and  yam, 
And  make  the  banjer  cry  giam,  giam, 
The'rofe  let  Europe's  beauties  boaft, 

Afia  the  faifron's  fickly  die, 
Let  Ebon  wives  grace  Afric's  coaft  :  —  • 

Can  thefe  with  lovely  Zootka  vie  ? 
Her  olive  cheek  the  glofs  outfhine?, 
That  decorates    the  copper  mines— 
Come  then  and  frantic,  &c. 
Some  (have  theii  eyebrows  for  the  fair, 

Others  for  love  pull  out  their  teeth, 
Some  by    the  roots    tear  up  their   hair, 

To  form  a  pret  :y  marriage  wreath  : 
My  loving  fift  at  Zootka's  nofc 
Shall  aim  a  hundred  tender  blows, 
And  as  they  frantic,  &c. 


RONDEAU—  IN   THE    WAGS. 


IN  peace,  when  fprightly  drum  and  fife 
Quick  inarches  iwectiy  p'ay, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         147 

Then  charming  is  the  foldier's  life, 

To  lounge  it  ail  ihe  day  : 
How  different  the  trade  is 

From  war's  deflrucHve  call, 
He  ooles  all  the  iadicp, 

And  dances  at  the  baP. 
The  fafh  fo  fwect  a  zone  is, 

So  powerful  are  its  charms, 
That  Mars  becomes  Adonis, 

Reclines  in  Venus'  arms, 

No  more  upon  the  dangerous  plain, 
Death  grimly  ftalks  abroad, 

No  more 

'The  gafping  and  unpitied  flain, 
V/c!tering  in  gore, 
tor  unavailing  help  implore: 
Their  fpirits  iffue  with  a  groan, 
Their  eyes  are  doled  in  endlefs  night, 

Ueuolders  arc  with  horror  aw'd, 
And  dread  a  fate,  fad   fate  of  woe, 

Thu  foon  may  be  their  ow::. 
No  time  for  pity  now  ! — the  fi^lit 

Grow  3  hot, 

The  trumpet  founds  a  charge, 
S  )ldiers  and  fteeds  wirh  ardour  glow, 
Stern  carnage  takes  the  field, 

And  traverfes  his  boundaries  long  ar.d  large  : 
Tlie  word  is  die  or  yield, 

And  merry  is  lorgot  : — 
Such  is  the^  dreadful  ardour  of  the  war  ; 
Yet  diiTjrcnt;  far 
When  all  thefc  horrors  ceafe, 
Avid  foldiers  taile  the  joys  of  fmiling  peace- 
Sweet  peace,  &c. 
The  well  pack'd  column,  iike  a  rock, 

While  th-jy  the  war  luft.iiii 
Greatly  receive  an  army's  lliock, 
The  glorious  terror  of  the  plain  ; 
Advancing  near, 
The  foe  is  (truck  aghafl, 
The  panic  fpreads, 
I'ale  iear 
Gjtini  o.i  'cin  fait; 


148 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS. 


To  order's  poft  confuiion  now  fuceeeds, 

And  now  the  mint  becomes  the  rear; 
.Ail  reKi  ution's  gone, 

"VVJuJi    wan   defpair, 

Turn \l   gcii'ral,    to   definition   leads  'cm   on: 
They  fly, 
Folui'v  the  vigors  crv, 

W.  r's  diiHdiul  tcmpcft   comes, 

Tru  :;pcts  Kli-J  u: 

Sr.oius,  groans,  and  thund'ring  cannon*  rend  the  fky  I 

The  banners  flutt'ring  late  in  air, 
?vow  from  the  bearers  grafp  are  torn, 

And  ou  the  J'pear 
Of  vitilory  borne  : — 
The  flroke's  decifive  ! — glutted  war, 
Dtfc<  r.ding  from  his  fanguine  car, 
Tired  foidiersfrom  their  poft  releafc, 
To  tafle  she  joys  of  fmiling  peace. 
Jjwect  peace,  £c. 

RONDEAU— IN   THE   WAGS. 


JACK  dances  and  fing'-,  and  is  always  content, 

In  his  vows  to  his  lafs  he'll  ne'er  fail  her, 
His  anchor's  a-trip  when  his  money's  ail  Jpent— 

A^d  this  is  the  life  of  a  Jailor. 
Alert  in  hi»  dutv,   lie  readily  flies 

Who.".:  \vinds  the  tir'd  vcflcl  are  flinging, 

!;  finik  to  tiic  fca  ^odf,  or  tois'd  to  the  f^its, 

Mil'    I.-.C'K  is  found  working  and  fingiiig  : 
I.   ir:    ''.flc  of  ;:n  enemy,  boldly  and  brave. 

!!f'!l  wills  broadfidt  on  bioadudc  regale  lu.r, 
} "ct  iif'H  ive'.  to  the  foul  o'er  that  ciic my'*  grave, 

So  nobic'a  the  mind  of  a  lailor. 
I..t  cannons  ro.ir  loiid,  Iniifis  their  fide-  let  tLebombfj 

Let  the  winds  a  dread  hurricane  rattle, 
'!  he  rough  and  the  pleafant  he  t?.!«-s  as  it  tomes, 

And  !;cif'h«  at  tht  ft-ortn  and  the  battle  : 
Id  a  iofi.  rii'g  powci  while  Jack  p»it-..  his  truft, 

AS  (ortune  comes,  fmillmg  he'Uhail  her, 
r'.eHgn'd,  fiii,  and  manly,  fin^e  what  mufl  oc  mufi, 

Ar.d  this  Is  :he  mii.d  of  a  f.iilor. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.      149 

Though  carelefs  and  headlong,  if  danger  fhould  prefs, 

And  rank'd  'mongfl  the  free  lift  of  rovers, 
Yet  he'll  melt  juto  tears  at  a  ta'e  of  diftrtf., 

And  prove  the  moft  ronltant  of  lovers  : 
To  rancour  unknown,  to  no  pafllon  a  flavc, 

Nor  unmanly,  nor  mean,  nor  a  railcr, 
He's  gentle  as  mercy?  as  fortitude  brave 

And  this  is  a  true  hearted  failor. 


BALLAD — IN  THE  WAGS. 

BLEST  Friendship  hail  !  ihy  gifts  pofTeffing, 

That  happy  mortal's  rich  indeed  : 
Thou  willing  giv'ft  each  earthly  bleffing 

To  all  but  thofe  who  ftand  in  need  : 
Thy  words  arcfwcet  as  Hybla's  honey, 
In  accents  kind,  and  mild,  and  civil, 
Flows  thy  advice  : — thou  giv'ft  not  money, 
*For  money  is  the  vsry  devil  : 
A'ul  rather  than  the  foul  temptation 

Should  into  fcrapes  thy  friend  betray, 
Difint'reftcd  confiderabion, 

Tliou  kindly  tak'ft  it  all  away. 
Are  his  affairs  at  rack  and  manger, 

L'jft  a  bad  world  thy  friend  ihould  choufe, 
No  time  for  thee  to  play  the  (Iranger, 

Thou  dcign'ft  to  manage  ail  his  houfe  : 
To  make  him  thy  good  plcafure  tarry, 

To  kifs  thy  feet,  to  leap  o'er  fticks, 
To  run,  to  hop,  to  fetch,  to  carry, 

And  play  a  thoafand  monkey  tricks. 
Nay,  if  thy  liquorilh  chops  fhould  water, 

To  eatt  him  of  domettic  ftrife, 
Thou  rid'lt  him  of  a  flirting  daughter, 

Or,  kinder  flill,  thou  ftcal'ft  his  wife. 
Corac  then,  my  friend,  prevent  my  pleafurc, 

And  out  of  doors  politenefs  kick, 
With  me  and  mine  pray  keep  no  meafure, 

Drench  me  with  Ku  npers,  make  me  fick  : 
My  cellar  bleed,  devour  my  mutton, 

Upon  my  vitals  dine  and  fup  : 

N2 


150  DJBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS. 

Come  on  thou  kind,  thnu  friendly  glutton, 

Kill,  barbecue,  and  cat  me  up. 
Then,  to  the  lad  a  friend,  dciert   me, 

That  wife  by  dear  experience  grown, 
And  having  no  kind  friend  to  hurt  me, 

I  may,  at  lalt,  become  my  own. 


BALLAD  -  IN     THE    WAGS. 


WHAT  fong  fliall  I  chant  ?  while  I  fing  Venus  f[>arrovvs, 

Her  cefhis,  her  dove, 

Shall  I  h;;ld  forth  on  love  ? 
Source  of  i'o  many  b'.ciiings  and  ill*, 
t)u  which  fo  many  Cupids  have  blunted  liitir  arrow?, 

And  fo  many  poets  their  quills  ! 

All  its  pains  and  its  pleaftucs,  its  milchicfs  and  joys, 
Have  been    fung  o'er  and  o'er,  by  fond  girls  and  vain  boys, 
.Not  a  finglc  new  thought  the  Pierian  fprins; 
On  Jove  caninfpire  : — nor  of  love  will  I  fin^. 
While  I  celebrate  uproar,  and  bottles  and  glaact, 

That  fools  think  divine, 

Shall  my  fong  be  on  win::  ? 
Source  of  fo  many  lurfeifs  and  feafls, 
Where  fo  many  topers  havf  toafted  their  laties, 

And  fo  many  men  become  beafts  ! 
Let  thafe  defcribe  wine  who  can  drink  till  they  reef, 
Twere  fo.:Iy  to  write  on  a  theme  1  can't  fed  ; 
How  can  I,  who  ne'er  drink  but  what    flows   from    health's 

fpring, 

Find  words  the  delight  of  a  drunkard  to  fing  ? 
While  1  ceiehraic  mtn  who  all  corsfort  and  pleafure 

Leave  at  home  for  a  name, 

Shall  I  dtfcant  on  fame  ? 
Source  of  fo  many  murders  an'1  woe*. 
Where  fo  m:;ny  heroes  have  plunclui-'d  f  >r  tieai.nr. 

And  I'o  mmy  friends  become  iva-  ! 
A  flranger  to  battles,  and  all  their  dcii'.;iit, 
Fond  of  peace  and  it*  jo',  s.   I  can't  fiiiu'der  and  write  : 
The  btft  plume  that  e'er  hero  bore  ofVl'rc  r.  I'.imi.'s  "inj 
Should  not  tempt  me  a  fcene  of  fuel*  horror  to  fine. 
What  dial!  be  my  fong  ?  Shall  I  celebrate  riches  ? 

Whofe  grafp  cm  combine 

L  ivp ,  glory,  and  wine  ! 
Source  of  each  mortal  man  a  rife  and  fail  : 


DIDDIN'S  SELECTED  SONG?.         151 

Tnat  thing  youth  and  age,  high  aad  low,  that  bewitches! 

A  nothing  that  comprehends  all! 

Be  the  theme  of  thefe  of  other?,  they  cannot  be  mine  :  — 
Till  love's  led  by  prudence,  by  temperance  wine, 
Till  w<tr  fhall  i'weet  peace,  and  go'd  charity  bring, 
Rcafon  fniiks,  and  iorbids  me  fuch  foliy  to  fing. 


BALLAD  --  IN   THE  WAGS. 


BUT,  perhap.-,  while  thus  boldly  cxpofing  each    e'f, 
A  dape  to  pafiion,  or  foliy,  or  pel*7, 
I  the  critic  fevered  become  of  myf«lf, 

PrefuBUnt  to  hope  for  your  favours  — 
What   is    it   to  me   -who   iiugs   great,  or  fings  final!,. 
Or  whether  knave  firft  every  knave  likes  to  cull, 
Or  who's  roguilh,  or  honefl  —  Lord  nothing  at    all, 

iiat  to  tke  out  the  crotchets  and  quavers. 
Advice   from   a   la\vy<.:,  a  fniile  from    liis  grace, 
From  a  hypocrit  trca.  hcry  with  a  fmo'itU  face, 
Fmm    a    billiop    a   bieiiing,    a   ganvittr    air.is   accr 

Tnc  public  receive  for  their  favours.: 
Thus    in    their    vocati  )n   all    earneftly    join, 
For  what   inoultl   a   >nan   circulate  but    his   own  coin  ?' 
Let  us  humbly  entreat  then  you'll  not  rcfufe  mine, 

'i'hough  compoi'd  but  of  utotchcts  ana  qaavtrs. 


Every  piece    is   full    weight,  nor    debas'J   by   vile    art, 
t>tenin^>  gratitude  (till  will  be  found  in  each  part, 
The  lively  imprcffioo  was  made  on  my  heart, 

For   what    lefs   can.   purchafe   your  favours  ? 
T!ius  I  fearlefs  fubmit    to  p.afs  through   yuiir   mint, 
When   ailky'd,  ihou'd   you  riad  tiitire'b   no  counterfeit  in't, 
The  ftanip  of  your  kind  approbation  iinurint, 

To  pafs  current  my  crotchets  aad  quavers. 

BALLAD  —  IN   PRIVATE    THEATRICALS. 

TIGHT  lads  have  I  fail'd  with,  but  none  e'er  fo  lightly, 
As  honeft  EiU  Bobilay,   fo  kind  and  fo  true  : 

lie'd  lin^  like  a  mermaid,  and  foot  it  fo  lightly, 
The  iorixaiUe's  pride,  auti  delight  of  the  c;xw  ? 


152         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

But  poor  as  a  beggar,  and  often  in  tatters 

He  went,  though  h:s  f(  rtune  \\a-,  kind  without  end  ; 

For  money,   cried  Bill,  and  them   there   fort  of  matters, 
What's  the  good  on't  d'ye   fee,  but    10   fuccour  a  friend. 

There's  Nipchcefe   the  purfer,  by  grinding  and  fqueezing, 

Fir  ft  plund'ring,    then  leaving,  the  fhip  like  a  rat, 
The  eddy  of  fortune  ftands  on  a  ftiff  breeze  in, 

And  inou.'ts,  fierce  ?s  fire,  a  -dog-vane  in  his   hat. 
My  bark,  through  hard  ftorms  on  life's  ocean  fhould  rock  her, 

Though  flie  roll   in  misfortune,  and   pitch   end  for  end, 
No,  never  fhall  Bill  keep  a  {hot  in  the  locker, 

When  by  handing  it  out,  he  can  fuccour  a  friend, 

Let  them  throw  out  their  wipes,  and  cry,  «  Spight   of  their 
'  croffet, 

1  And  forgetful  of  toil  that  fo  hardly  they  bore, 
'  That  failors,  at  fea,  earn   their   money  like  horfet, 

'  To  fquander  it  idly  like  affes  afhore.' 
Such  lubbers  their  jaw  wouid  coil  up,  could   they  rr.eafurc, 

By  their  feelings,  the  gen'rous  delight  without  end, 
That  gives  birth  in  us   tars   to  that  truefl   of  pkafure, 

The  handing  our  rhino  to  fuccaur  a  friend. 

Why  what's  all  this  nonfenfe  they  talks  of,  and  pother, 

About  rights  of  man  ?  What  a  plague  are  they  at  ? 
If  they  mean  that  each  man  to  his  mef.hiate's  a  brother, 

Why  the  lubberly  fwabs,  ev'ry  fool  can  tell  that. 
The  rights  of  us  Llritons  we  knows  to  be  loyal, 

In  our  country's  defence  our  laft  moments  to  fpend, 
To  fight  up  to  the  cars  to  proieiil  the  blood  royal, 

To  be  true  to  our  wives,  aud  to  fuccour  a  friend. 


RONDEAU  -  IN    PRIVATE    THEATRICALS. 

BEAUTY  I  fell,  who'll  buy  ?  Who'11-buy  ? 

Roles  and  lilies  girls,  here  am  I; 

Neither  black,  brown,  nor  fair,   fliall  have    caufe  for  com 

plaint, 

They  fliall  look  like  angels,  and  all  without  paint: 
Who'll  buy?  Who'll  buy? 
Here  am  1. 

Come  maids  and  be  beautiful,  eafy's  the  tafk, 
Ufe  the  rouge  newly  taken  from  modcfty's  maik; 
As  it  blooms  rt-all  fair  truth  Ihew  your  heart  in  the  flufli, 
And  duty's  cuit.iicl  fliall  poiiih  the  blufli, 


I  £3 

For  duty  gives  charms  that  (hall  laft  all  your  lives: 
None  but  dutiful  .laughters  make  beautiful  \tivc*. 

Beauty  I  fell,  &c. 

Now's  your  time,  all  ya  wives,  would  ye  beautiful  grow, 
Draw  fome  drops  from  content's  lucid  fount  as  they  How  ; 
Take  the  milunefs  of  love,  throw  away  all  the  art, 
Mix  thefe  in  endearment's  alembic,  the  heart, 
Let  the  fire  of  attention  the  whole  £:,itly  boil, 
Then  add  nature's  bcfl  glofs,  a  perpetual  fmile, 

Beauty  I  fell,  &c. 

Come  round  me,  I've  wares  for  maid,  widow,  and  wife  : 
This  eiTcnce  of  truth  to  the  eyes  gives  a  life, 
This  tincture  of  fwcetnefs  fhall  lilies  difdoie, 
And  from  this,  virtue's  balm,  fhall  fpring  be.uity's  boflrofe; 
Then  while  art's  in  iafhiou,  how  can  vou  refufc, 
That  which  nature  and  re  afon  permit  you  to  ufc? 
Beauty  I  fell,  &c. 


BALLAD  -  IN    PRIVATE    THEATRICALS. 


TO   the  plain,  to  the  plain,  hark  !  hark  we  are  fummon'd 
away  ; 

The  birds  with  new  notes  thrill  the  heart  through  the  ear; 
Trees  and  flow'rs  frefli  liv'ry  have  put  on  t«,day, 

And  the  fun  with  nc.w  ^!ory  begins  his  career  ! 
Some  i'picndid  occafion  Arcadia  invites 

lo  the  court  of  its  lov'd.  its  illttftrinuj  lord, 
Where,  whiic  plcafures  and  fports  blend  their  various  de- 
lights, 

Plenty  empties  her  well  loaded  horn  en  the  board. 
What,  what  c^n  it  mean  ? 
For  our  hearts'  king  and  queen 

MHV  jv.il  (ale  tlv.is  each  day  fome  new  plcafures  prepare  : 
The  fnorts  now  begun! 

*Tj<  the  nuptials  propitious  of  Fred'rick  their  foil, 
Ai.t!  the  f:>ng,  and  the  dune;-,  and  the  clarion  fo  loud, 
And  thofe  acclamations  we  hear  from  the  crowd, 

'  Ail  hail  the  royal  pair.' 
N ••>"•  louder  it  grows  I  "'ris  the  bridegroom  and  bride  ; 

\V:iat  loyalty  rent  the  glad  air  as  it  ruiip., 
Hv'  a  M:irs  in  his  ca-,  Ve:ius  ilie,  by  his  lide  ; 

He  a  hero,  and  ilic  fru;n  a  luro'*  IMLC  l\jrun>>. 


1  54        DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Venus  here  finds  her  court  ;  three  fwcet  Graces  arc  fecn, 

ihan  Cythtrea  more  lovely,   more  mild  dian  her  dove, 
The  fair  ftrangcr  to  hail,  in  their  hearts  to  reign  queen, 

i-'-ach  a  Inter  in  beauty,  a  iifkr  in  love  : 
And  fee  the  glad  throng, 
fur  the  dance  and  the  long 

With  eager  rdpe&iul  affection  prepare  ! 
The  fports  are  begun, 
George  fandions  the  nuptials  of  Frederick  his  fon. 

While  thefong,  &c. 

Again  a  loud  burft  !   What  new  flioutsrent  the  air  ! 

A  iond  brother  a  bride  to  a  fond  brother  gives  ! 
While  a  father,  a  mother,  a  progeny  rare, 

Each  alike  imparts  tranfport,  and  tranfport  receives. 
Long,  long  may  t^ie-rjoys  in  ?  tide  of  love  flow, 

Pure,  unmix'd  from  the  conjugal  fount  whence  they  fprhr 
The  firft  title  of  human  perfection  we  know 

Is  the  parent  whole  virtues  iiluftrate  the  kin<r. 
And  fee  the  glad  throng, 
For  the  dance  and  the  i'ong 

With  eager  rcfpcctful  attention  prepare  ! 
The  fports  are  begun, 
George  functions  the  nuptials  of  Frederick  his  fon  : 

While  the  long,  &c. 


BALLAD  -  IN    PRIVATE   THEATRICALS. 


I  THAT  once  was  a  ploughman,  a  failor  am  now, 

No  lark  that  aloft  in  the  iky, 
Ever  flutter'd   his   \\ings  to  give  fpeed  to  the   plough 

Was  fo  gay  or  fo  careiefs  as  I  : 

But  my  friend  w<f-  a  earfindo  aboard  a  king's  ihip, 
And  he  ax'd  me  to  go  juft  to  fea  for  a  tap, 
And  he  talk'd  of  fuch  things, 
As  if  failors  were  kir.gs, 
And  fo   teizing  did  keep, 

That  1  lefc  my  poor  plough  to  go  ploughing  the  deep  : 
No  longer  the  horn 
Call  me  up  in  the  morn, 

I  traded  the  carfindo  and  the  inconftant  wind, 
That  made  me  for  to  go  and  leave  my  dear  behind. 
I  did  not  much  like  for  to  be  aboard  a  Pnip  v 

When  in  danger  there'?  no  liucr  io  creep  out : 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          155 

1  liked  the  jolly  tars,  I  liked  bumbo  and  flip, 

But  I  did  not  like  rocking  about : 
By  and  by  comes  a  hurricane,  I  did  not  like  that : 
Next  a  battle   that  many  a  failor  laid  flat : 
Ah,  cried  I,  who  would  roam 
That  like  me  had  a  home  ? 
Where  I'd  fow,  and  I'd  reap, 

Ere  I  left  my  poor  plough,  to  go  ploughing  the  deep  i 
Where  fweetly  the  horn 
Cali'd  me  up  in  the  morn, 

Ere  I  trufted  the  carfindo  and  the  inconftant  wind, 
That  made  me  for  to  go  and  leave  my  dear  behind. 
At  laft  fafe  I  landed  and  in  a  whole  fkin, 

Nor  did  I  make  any  long  flay, 
Ere  I  found  by  a  frienc1,  whom  I  ax'd  for  my  kin, 

Father  dead,  and  my  wife  ran  away : 
Ah  who  but  thyfelf,  faid  I,  haft  thou  'to  blame, 
Wives  lofing  their  hufbands,  oft  lofe  their  good  name ; 
Ah  why  did  I  roam, 
When  fo  happy  at  home, 
I  could  fow,  and  could  reap, 

Ere  I  left  my  poor  plough,  to  go  ploughing  the  deep  : 
When  fo  fweetly  the  horn 
Cali'd  me  up  in   the   morn: 

Curfe  light  upon  the  carfindo  and  the  inconftant  wind, 
That  in  ride  me  for  to  go  and  leave  my  dear  behind. 
Whv  if  that  be  the  cafe,  faid  this  verv  fame  friend, 

And  you  ben't  no  more  minded  to  roam, 
Gis  a  ili^ke  by  the  fift,  all  your  cares  at  an  end, 

Dad's  alive,  and  your  wife  fafe  at  home  ! 
Stark  (taring  with  joy,  I  leapt  out  of  my  fkin, 
Bufs'd  my  wife,  mother,  fifkr,  and  all  of  my  kin: 
Now  cried  I,  let  them  roam, 
Who  want  a  good  home  ; 
1  am  well,  fo  I'll  keep, 

Nor  again  leave  my  plough  to  go  ploughing  the  deep  : 
Once  more  flial!  the  horn 
Call  me  up  in  the  morn, 

Nor  fliall  any  damn'd  carfindo,  nor  the  inconftant  wind, 
E'er  tempt  me  for  to  go,   and  leave  my  dear  behind. 

BALLAD IN   PRIVATE  THEATRICAL!. 

THE  peafant  in  his  humble  cot, 
The  Ethiope  on  the  fandy  Nile, 


6  DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

The  mole-like  Laplander,  whofe  grot 

lioafts  litile  genial  nature's  fmile  : 
Thcfe,  bittlt  with  virtue,  are  not  poor; 

Her  cheering  voice  inch  thrilling  comfort  brings, 
It  throws  around  the  thatch  obfcure 

A  joy  that  fhames  the  palaces  of  kings. 
Oh  virtue,  fnrrowing  man's  relief, 

In  pitv  by  kind  heaven  fent, 
That  tear'ft  away  the  thorn  of  grief, 

And  plant'fl  inftead  the  rofe  content!— 
Thy  fmalleft  fpark  iuch  luftre  owns, 

With  it  fuch  truth  and  dignity  it  brings, 
It  throws  obfcurity  on  thrones, 

And  beams  to  dim  the  diadem  of  kings ! 


BALLAD — IN    PRIVATE    THEATRICALS. 


SWEET  fung  the  lark,  high  pois'd  in  air, 

When  on  as  fweet  a  morn, 
In  Hymen's  fane,  one  fate  to  fhare, 

Anna  and  I  were  fworn. 
Sweetly  the  thrufh,  in  varied  fong, 

The  vacant  joy  encrcss'd, 
When  kindly  came  the  village  throng 

To  join  the  marriage  fealt. 
But  fweeter  fang  the  nightingale, 

Love's  herald  of  the  grove, 
When  Cynthia,  through  the  filver  vale, 

Led  to  the  bow'r  of  love  ! 
The  lark's  fweet  morning  fong  of  joy 

Is  known  by  that  content, 
A  lovely  girl  and  blooming  boy, 

Are  given  us  to  cement : 
The  thrufh  ftill  merrily  at  noon, 

In  varied  cadence  ilngs, 
When  fmiling  fortune  oft  fome  boon, 

To  cheer  our  labour,  brings  : 
N«r,  time  far  diftant,  fliali  we  grieve, 

Though  blcfling  now  and  bltft, 
When  Philomel,  at  nature's  eve, 

Shall  lull  us  into  reft. 


DIBDIN  S   SELECTED   SONGS.  157 

-«••<••«  ••«;S><S«g>'S£»">->«X'« 
BALLAD IN    PRIVATE    THEATRICALS* 


DEAR  John  prithee  tell  me,  cried  Ruth, 

To  Gubbins,  her  husband,  one  day, 
Dolt  not  think,  in  good  (both, 
I  ihould  fwear  but  the  truth 

Did  I  fwear  what  I  am  going  to  fay  ? 

That  wedlocks's  a  ftate, 
In  good  humour,  that  fate 

Contriv'd  to  blefs  woman  and  man, 
And  that  Giies  here's  an  afs, 
Who  fuch  fortune  lets  pals  ? 

All  iliould  marry  as  foon  as  they  can. 

Why  Goody,  cried  Gubbins,  you  know 
My  thoughts  of  the  thing  'lore  to  day, 

Nor,  as  I  fl»all  fliew, 

Need  oiia  maay  miles  go 
To  prove  what  I  am  going  to  fiy. 

Did  wives  ever  fcold, 
Were  they  ugly,  or  old, 

A  fpoufe  were  a  mifcrablc  man  : 
But  i'mooth  is  their  tongue, 
They're  all  comely  and  young  ! 

Giles  get  married  asfwon  as  you  can. 
If  one's  children  one  wifh'd  in  their  grave., 

Still  plaguing  one  day  after  day, 
The  girls  faihion's  {laves, 
Thy  boys  puppies  and  knaves, 

One  then  might  have  fomething  to  fay  ; 
But  brats  are  no  evil, 
They  ne'er  play  the  devil, 

Nor  have  wives  from  their  duty  e'er  run  , 
Then  fince,  my  friend  Giles, 
Wedlock  greets  you  with  finilcs, 

Get  married  as  foon  as  you  can 
Cried  Ruth,  will  you  let  your  tongue  rua 

Here  you  fcurvy  old  villain  I  rule  ! 
Rwgues  there  are,  faid  the  fon, 
Bur,  old  Quiz,  am  I  one  ? 

Cried  the  daughter,  my  father'o  a  fool 
O 


158 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 


Don't  you  fee,  Gubbins  cried, 
I've  the  tendcrcft  bride, 

And  beft  children  that  ever  bleft  man.! 
Giles  would  you  be  driven, 
To  bediam  or  heaven, 

Get  married  as  foon  as  you  can  ! 


BALLAD  -  IN   PRIVATE  THEATRICALS. 


LET  fons  of  flothdream  time  away, 

Regardlefs  what  niay  follow, 
And  rail  at  us  who  wake  the  day 

With  horn,  and  hound,  and  hollow  : 
Vv'e  their  pursuits  fhould  find  the  fame, 

To  their  fecrets  were  we  privy, 
Each  man  to  hunt  fome  favourite  game 

Through  life  goes  on  tantivy. 

The  book-worm  hunts  the  anueiit  fchools, 

And  walks  with  Ariftotle, 
Black-legs  and  ladies  hunt  for  fools, 

The  toper  hunts  his  bottle 
Thus  fhould  we  find,  whate'er  the  name, 

To  their  fecrets  were  we  privy, 
Mankind  to  hunt,  &c, 
When  dodlors  come  in  at  the  death, 

For  true  bred  hunters  ihefe  are, 
The  patient  cries,  with  his  laft  breath, 

"  Et  tu  Brute!  then  fall  Cxfar." 
Thus  we  with  fafety  might  proclaim, 

To  tfeeir  fecrets  were  we  privy, 
Mankind  to  hunt,  &c. 

The  mifanthrope  hunts  out  for  woes, 
Muck-worms  are  for  gold  purfuing, 

While  neck  und  nothing,  as  he  goes, 
The  fpend  thrift  hunts  his  ruin. 

Bold  tars  for  honour  hunt  the  wind, 
Outrageous  faints  hunt  finncrs, 

While  v/kh  round  beliy,  capon-lin'd, 
Fat  aldermen  hunt  dinners, 
hus  fhould  we  find  men's  views  the  fame, 
To  their  fecrets  were  we  privy, 

All,  to  hunt,  &c. 


DIBDINS  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Fame  courtiers  hunt  from  place  to  place, 

Rakes  hunts  new  fits  of  features, 
While  generous  hearts  urge  on  the  chafe, 

To  relieve  their  fellow  creatures  : 
.l^t  us,  while  to  our  action's  aim, 

Jv •••£  irdlefs  who  are  privy, 
In  chafe  of  pleafure,  as  fair  game, 

Through  liie  go  on  tantivy. 

BALLAD IN   PRIVATE   THEATRICALS. 


POOR.  Peggy  lov'cl  a  foldier  lad, 
More,  far  more,  than  tongue  can  tell  ye, 

Yet  was  her  tender  boiom  fad 
Whene'er  fhe  heard  the  loud  ieve!;ez  .- 

The  fi  cs  were  fcreetch  owls  to  her  ears, 
The  drums  like  thunder  feem'd  to  rattle, 

All  too  prophetic  were  her  fears, 
They  call'd  him  from  her  arms  to  battle! 

There  wonders  he  again  ft  the  foe 
Performed,  and  was  with  laurels  crown'd, 

Vain  pomp  !   for  foon  deatli  laid  him  low 
On  the  cold  ground. 

Her  heart  all  love,  her  foul  all  truth, 
That  none  her  fears  or  flight  diicaver, 

Poor  Peg,  in  guife  a  comely  youth, 
Follow'd  to  the  field  her  lover. 

Directed  by  the  file  and  drum, 
To  where  the  work  of  death  was  doing, 

Where  of  brave  hearts  the  time  was  come, 
Who,  feeking  honour,  gra!p  at  ruin. 

Her  very  foul  was  chillYi  with  \voc, 
New  horror  came  in  every  found, 

And  whifper'd  death  had  laid  him  low- 
On  the  cola  ground- 

With  mute  affliction  as  flic  flood, 
While  her  woman's  fears  confound  her 

With  terror  all  her  foul  fubdu'd, 
A  mourning  train  came  thronging  round  her: 

The  plaintive  fife  and  muflvd  drum 
Th~  martial  obfequies  difcover, 

His  name  flis  heard,  anvi  cried  I  come, 
Faithful  to  meet  my  murder'*!  lover! 


160         DIBDIN'S  SELECT-ED  SONGS. 

Then  heart-rent  by  a  figh  of  woe, 
Fc-J!,  to  the  grief  of  nU  around, 

Where  death  had  laid  her  lover  low 
On  the  cold 


BALLAD  — IN    PRIVATE  THEATRICALS. 


MANKIND  a'lgft  drunk,  ay  and  womankind  too, 

As  by  proof  I  fliall  prefent.'y  Ihew  you  : — 
See  that  upftart,  to  power  who  unworthily  grew, 

With  go<  cl  lort'uiic  10  drunk  he  don't  know  vou. 
Then  rour.cl  with  ihe  bowl,  the  tree's  known  by  its  trunk, 

Tis  not  liquor  our  natures  can  vary  ; 
And  pow'r  as  completely  can  make  a  man  drunk 

.As  claret,  or  fack,  or  canary. 

Why  reels  that  poor  wretch  ?   Why  his  eyes  does  lie  roll  ! 

Why  mutter  and  ftorm  in  that  fafhion  ? 
What  wine  has  he  drank  ?  How  oit  emptied  the  bowl ! 

Not  at  ail  lir,  the  man's  in  a  paffion  ! 
Then  round  with  the  bowl ,  the  tree's  known  by  its  trunk  ! 

'Tis  not  liquor  cur  natures  can  vary, 
And  paffion  as  eafy  can  make  mortals  drunk 

As  claret,  or  fack,  or  canary. 
See  that  whimfical  creature,  now  cry,  and  now  laugh, 

Now  rave,  and  now  florm,  and  now  fidget  ! 
He's  not  drunk  fir,    for  all  he's  fo  like  a  great  calf, 

'Tis  jealoufy  makes  him  an  idiot ! 
Then  round  with  the  bow!,  the  trees  known  by  its  trunk, 

'Tis  not  liquor  our  natures  can  vary, 
And  love  as  completely  can  make  a  man  drunk 

As  claret,  or  fack,  or  canary. 
See  thofe  beautiful  creatures  like  angels  come  on, 

Form'd  us  fellows  to  keep  to  our  tether, 
Say,  'ent  it  a  pity  they  are  all  half  gone  ! 

Not  with  wine,   but  a  cap  and  a  feather  ! 
Then  round  with  the  bo\>  I,  the  tret's  known  by  its  (nink, 

'Tis  not  liquor  our  natures  c;ui  vary, 
And  fafhicm  as  cafy  can  make  ladies  drunk 

As  claret,  or  fack,  or  canary. 
Thus  palTion,  or  power,  or  whim,  or  caprice, 

Poor  mortals  can  make  non  i'e  ipfc; 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.        161 

V.rc  fwil:  like  a  (purge,  or  a  mayor  at  a  feaft, 
The  men  dr  iuk,  and  the  ladies  all  tipfey  ! 

Then  round  \vi:ii  the  bowl,  the  tree's  knownby  its  trunk, 
'Tis  not  liquor  our  natures  can  vary, 

And  folly  as  eafy  can  make  mortals  drunk 
As  claret,  or  lack,  or  canary. 

BALLAD IN   PRIVATE   THEATRICALS. 


DAPPER  Ted  Tattoo  is  my  natty  name, 

For  a  roll  or  a  trevally, 
Among  the  girls  loud  founds  my  fame, 

"When  I  their  quarters  rally. 

For  with  fife  and  drum 

I  fmirking  come, 

Leer,  cock  my  hat, 

Swear  and   all  that, 

Nor  never  dread 

A  broken  r.ead 
Where  the  c;.ufe  of  ftrife's  a  doxy  : 

But  as  for  wars, 

And  wound?,  and  fears,  ,;^ 

And  fighting  foes, 

And  thump.-,  and  blows, 
I'd  rather  fight  by  proxy. 
When  chiefs  and  privates  mingled  lie, 

And  gafp  without  affiftance, 
In  baggage  waggon,  perch' d  up,  I 

Stand  umpire  at  a  diftance  : 

And  with  fife  and  drum 

I  fvnirking  come, 

'•Mongfl  foldicr's  wives, 

Who  lead  merry  lives, 

Kbr  ever  dread 

A  broken  head 
Where  the  caufe  of  ftrife's  a  doxy  ; 

Let  their  hufbands  go, 

And,  'gainft  the  foe 

Gain  glory's  fears 

In    honour's  wars  : 
I'd  rather   fight  by  proxy. 
Yet  think  ye  I  am  not  renown'd 

la  foreign  wars  and  civil, 
O  a 


161         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Why,  fir,  when  fafe  at  home  and  found, 
'         Zounds  I  could  fight  the  devil  ? 
And  with  fife  and  drum, 
Can  fmirking  come, 
And  cock  my  hat, 
Leer   and  all    that, 
Nor  never  dread 
A  broken  head, 

Wken  the  caufe  of  ftrife's  a  doxy  : 
Let  others  go, 
And,  'gain ft  the  foe, 
Gain  glory's  fears 
In    honour's    wars  : 
I'd  rather  fight  by  proxy. 

Thus  through  the  world  I  make  a  noife 

Where'er  I'am  a  fojeurner, 
The  mighty  wonder  and  furprifc 

Of  every  chimney  corner! 

Where  with  fife  and  drum 

I  fmirking  come, 

And  rap  out  zounds, 

And  talk  of  wounds, 

jMor  ever  dread 

A  broken  head 
Where  the  caufe  of  ftrife's  a  doxy  : 

They're  fools  who  go, 

And,    'gainft    the    foe, 

In  glory's  wars 

Gain  honour's  fears : 
I'm  wife,  and  fight  by  proxy. 

BALLAD — -IN  PRIVATE  THEATRICALS. 


LADIES  smcPgentlcmen  I'm  a  beau, 

A  beau  I  have  been  all  my  life, 
And  yet  may  the  devil  fetch  me  if  I  know 

How  1,  .whole  whole  trade  i» 

To  tickle  up  the  ladies, 
Wave  never  yet  got  roe  a  wife. 
I  ftartc-d  in  life  'bout  the  year  fixty  two, 
My  fmall  clothes  were  fcaViet,  my  Bookings  were  blue, 
My  ihoes  were  ha'f-boots,  pudding  lleevcs  too  1  wore, 
My  hat  in  the  true  uiitol  cock,  and  the  more 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       163 

O'er  the  fair  to  prevail, 
I  fported  a  fine  ramilic  for  a  cue, 

For  what's  a  beau  or  a  monkey  without  a  tail  ? 

Fafhion  thus  yields  to  fafhion,  as  night  yields  to  day, 

The  huge  hat  that  was  eock'd  with  an  air 
Soon  was  kick'd  out  of  doors,  of  the  fmart  Nivcrncfz 

The  charm 'd  world  fung  the  praifes, 

The  belles  put  on  jaxics, 
And  the  baaux  fported  now  their  own  hair. 
1-5 y  that  time  it  came  to  the  year  feve nty-two, 
The  fiiihions  of  mixture  of  old  were  and  new; 
Your  hair   like  a  bufhel  might   look  or  a  wjc, 
Or  nine  hairs  of  a  fide,  with  the  tail  cf  a  pig, 

For  me  o'er  the  fair  to  prevail, 
I  had  feven  yards  of  ribbon  to  make  me  a  queue, 

For  what's  a  beau  or  a  monkey  without  a  tail  ? 
Again  with  the  varying  modes  did  I  jump, 

Of  fafhion  I  gave  the  grand  pas; 
My  coat  hung  to  my  heels,  or  was  tuck'dto  my  rump, 

In  all  circles  fhoving, 

A  beau,  or  a  iloven, 
With  a  flouch,  or  a  chape? u  de  br^s : 
Thus  I  fported  my  figure  about  eighty-two, 
Drove  a  two-ftory  gig^  that  four  pony  rats  dre\v, 
Wore  a  coat  with  icven  capes,  thirteen   waiftcoats  in   one 
And,  that  I  might  ne'er  be  in  folly  outdone, 

With  the  fair  to  prevail, 
A  large  porter's  knot  would  have  fcarce  held  my  queue, 

For  what's  a  beau  or  a  monkey  without  a  tail  ? 
Thus  in  all  forts  of  modiih  aficir.bles  the  firft, 

Have  my  purfe,  health,  and  fpirits  been  hack'd, 
But  the  nolifh  worn  off,  nothing  left  but  the  rufr, 

I  of  failiion's  ftrange  ftagc*, 

Like  hhakelpeare's  Seven  Ages, 
Play  the  farce,  though  I'm  in  at  the  lafb  a<fr, 
Anivtd  to  year  of  Our  Lord  ninety-two, 
1  drefs,  and  I  coax,  and  !  flirt,  but  won't  do; 
At  a  hundred  and  one  I  ihould  (till  be  a  fop, 
lut  done  up,  and  nick  named  by  the  world  the  grey  crop, 

Can  I  hope  to  prevai  , 
To  play  gallantry's  part  I  have  now  loft  my  cue, 

For  what's  A  beau  or  a  monkey  without  a  tail. 


164          DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

BALLAD IN   PRIVATE   THEATRICALS* 


ALAS  !  the  battle's  loft  and  won, 

Dick  Flint's  borne  off  the  field 
By  death,  from  whom  the  flouted  run, 

Who  makes  whole  armies  yield  ! 
Dick  well  in  honour's  footflep  trodj 

Erav'd  Avar  and  its  alarms, 
Now  death  beneath  the  humble  fod 

Has  grounded  his  arms  ! 
Dick's  march*  d  before  us,  on  a  rout 

Where  ev'ry  foldier's  feat, 
His  fire  h  dead,  hi  j  courage  out, 

His  ammunition  fpent  : 
His  form  fo  acftivc's  now  a  clod, 

His  grace  no  longer  charms, 
For  death  beneath  the  humble  fod 

Has  grounded  his  arms  ! 
Come  fire  a  volly  o'er  his  grave, 

Dead  marches  Jet  us  beat  ; 
War's  honours  well  become  the  brav«j 

Mrho  found  their  laft  retreat. 
All  muft  obey  Fate's  awful  nod, 

Whom  life  this  moment  warms, 
Death  foon  or  late,  beoeath  the  fod 

Will  ground  the  foldier's  arms  ! 


BALLAD  -  IN   PRIVATE  THEATRICALS. 

ADIEU  my  gallant  failor.  obey  thy  dufy's  call, 

Though  fa!fe  the  fea,  there's  truth  afhorc; 
Till    nature   is  found   changing,  thou'rt  i'ure  of  conftani 

Poll: 

And  yet,  as  now  we  fever, 
Ah  much  I  fear  that  never 
Shall  I  alas  behold  thce  more. 
jack  kifs'd  tier,  hitch'd  his  trowfcrs,  ami  hied  him  to  begone. 

Weigh'd  anchor,  and  loft  fight  of  fhore  , 
Next  day  a  bri£k  fouth  wefltr  a  heavy  gr.le  brought  on, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.        165 


Adieu  cried  luck  for  ever, 
For  much  I  fear  that  never 
Shall  I,  fweet  Poll,  behold  you  more. 
Poll  heard  that  to  the  bottom  vas  funk  her  honeft  tar, 

And  for  a.  while  lamented  fore  ; 

At  length  cried  (lie,  I'll  marry  ;  what  flioul.-l  I  tarry  for  ? 
I  may  lead  apes  for  ever, 
Jack's  gone,  and  never,  never 
Shall  I  alas,  bthold  him  more  ! 
Jack  fafe  and  found  returning,  fought  cut  his  faithful  Poll, 

Think  you,  cried  flie,  thaf  f?.lfe  I  fwore,^ 
I'm  conftant  fh'll  as  ever,  'tis  nature's  chang'd,  that's  all  ; 
And  thus  we  part  for  ever, 
For  never,  failor,  never 
Shall  I  behold  you  more  ! 
If,   as  you  fay,  that  naturelike  winds  can  fhift  and  veer, 

About  (hip  for  a  kinder  fliore, 

1  hear'd  the  trick  you  play'd  me,  and  fo,d'ye  fee,  my  dear, 
To  a  kind  heart  for  ever 
I've  fp'iced  myfelf,  fo  never 
Shall  I  falfe  Poll,  behold  you  more. 


BALLAD  —  IN     PRIVATE    THEATRICALS. 


SPANKING  Jack  was  fo  comely,  fo  pleafaot  fo  jolly, 

Though  winds  blew  great  guns,  (till  he'd  whittle  and  jing, 

Jack  lov'd  his  friend,  and  was  true  to  his  Molly, 

And,  if  honour  gives  grcatnefs,  was  great  as  a  king  : 

One  night,  as  \vc  drove  with  two  reefs  in  the  main  fail, 

And  the  feud  came  on  low'ring  upon  a  Ice  fliore, 
Jack  went  up  aloft,  for  to  hand  the  top  gantfail, 

A  fpray  wafh'd  him  off,  and  we  ne'er  law  him  more  : 
J'ut  gricv ing's  a  folly, 
Coir.e  lei  us  be  jolly, 

If  we've  troubles  on  iVa  !>oy,  we've  pleafures  'fhore. 
Whiffling  Tom  flill  of  mifchief,  or  fun  in  the  middle, 

Through  life  in  all  weathers  at  random  would  joo, 
He'd  dance,  and  he'd  fing,  and  he'd  play  on  the  fiddle, 

And  fwig  with  an  air  his  allowance  of  grog  : 

Long  fide  of  a  Don,  in  the  Terrible  frigate, 

As  yard  arm  and  yard  arm  we  Uy  oitthc  flioir, 


166         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

In  and  out  whiffling  Tom  did  fo  caper  and  jig  it, 

That  his  head  was  {hot  off,  and  we  ne'er  faw  him  more 

But  griev.ing's  a  folly,  &c. 
Bonny  Ben  was  to  e  ich  jolly  mcffmate  a  brother, 

He  was  manly  and  honeft,  good  naturcd  and  free, 
If  ever  one  tar  wasjnore  true  than  another, 

To  his  friend  and  hit  duty,  that  failor  was  he  : 
One  day  with  the  davit  to  weigh  the  cadge  anchor, 

Ben  went  in  the  boat  on  a  b<>id  crappy  fhore, 
He  over  board  tipt,  when  a  fhark  and  a  I'panker, 

Soon  nipt  him  in  two,  and  we  ne'er  faw  him  more  ! 

But  grieving's  a  folly,   &c. 
But  what  i-.f  it  all  lads,  fhall  we  he  down  hearted 

Becaufe  that  mayhap  we  now  take  our  lafl  fup  ? 
Life's  cable  muft  one  day  or  other  be  parted, 

And  death  in  fafe  moorings  will  bring  us  all  up  : 
But  'tis  always  the  way  on't,  one  fcarce  finds  a  brother 

Fond  as  pitch,  honi-lt,  hearty,  arid  true  to  the  core, 
But  by  battle,  or  florin,  or  fome  damnM  thing  or  other, 

He's  popp'd  off  the  ht;ek<i,  and  we  ne'er  fee  him  more  ! 
JBut  grieving's  a  ibiiy,    3tc. 


BALLAD  -  IN    PRIVATE    THEATRICALS. 


ARRAH  if  'tis  no  lie  in  this  world  we  are  living, 

And  it  en't,  lor  it's  feen  every  day, 
That  the  trueft  of  joys  honelr  hearts  ar^eceiving 

Are  thofe  they  are  giving  away.         ^ 
Sure  men  are  all  fitters,  and  crmfins,  and  brothers, 

And  'tis  clear  to  the  frupideft  elf 

That  the  bcft  kind  of  comfort  a  mm  gives  to  others, 
Is  that  which     he  takes  to  hirnfdf : 
Thus  this  bodder  and  game,  this  fame  meum  and  tuum, 
Means  the  devil  a  meaning  but  fuum. 

For  your  friend's  peace  of  miud  iliould  you  let  your  moutk 
water, 

And  be  getting  the  wifli  you  obtain, 
In  poffefling  his  purl';.-,    or  his  wife  or  his  daughter, 

What  delight  would  the  joy  be  but  pain. 
Then  let  knav'ry  alone,  the  vain  work's  ufelcfs  hbour,. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         167 

Be't  for  love,  or  for  pow'r  or  for  pelf, 
'far  cv'ry  wrong  that  a  man  does  hi»  neighbour* 

Sure  is  he  not  doing  himfclf  ? 

Thus  this  bodcler,  &c. 
If  I'm  rich,  and  fhould  chufe  to  do  good  to  another, 

Arrah  fait  for  the  felfifh  rlefign 
Devil  tank  me,  for  if  you  allow  I'm  his  brother, 

Fait  and  confcicncc  fure  is  not  he  mine  ? 
But,  fays  mufty  Morality,  chufe  objects  fitting; 

Jufl  your  fermons  lay  by  on  the  flielf  ; 
Why  you  ftupid  old  big  wig,  arrah  fure  'ent  I  getting 

For  one  joy  of  his  ten  for  myfelf. 
Thus  this  bodcler,  &c. 
Then  from  fuch  bothoration  in  pity  releafe  us, 

Fortune  all  you  beftow  will  rcpiy, 
And  though  poor  as  Job,  you'll  all   be  as  rich   as  Craefus 

For  you'll  keep  whut  you've  given  away: 
The  fine  generous  maxim  then  while  you're  purfuing 

Spend  your  all  to  hoard  mountains  of  pelf, 
Soar  high  while  you're  finking,  he  prosperous  in  ruin, 

And  give  joy  to  enjoy  it  yourfell. 

And  thus  have  I  proved,   &c« 


BALLAD  -  IN   PRIVATE    THEATRICALS. 


^K  was  the  morn  when  William  left  his  Nancy 
The  fleecy  fnow  frown'd  on  the  whiten'd  fliorc, 
Coid  as  the  fears  that  chill'd  her  dreary  fancy, 

While  flie  her  faiior  from  her  boi'om  tore  : 
To  his  fill'd  heart  a  little  Nancy  prefiing, 

While  a  young  tar  the  ample  trowfers  ey'd, 
In  need  of  firnincis,  in  this  ftatc  diftrelling, 
Will  check'd  the  riling  figh,  and  fondly  cried, 
Ne'er  fear  the  perils  of  the  fickle  ocean, 
Sorrew's  a  notion, 

Grief  all  in  vain ; 
Sweet  love  take  heart, 
Jor  we  muft  pare 

In  joy  to  meet  again, 

Laud  blew  the  wind,  when  leaning  on  that  willow 
Where  the  dear  name  of  William  floed, 


i68         UIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

When  Nancy  faw,  tofs'd  by  a  faithlefs  billow, 

A  fhip  daih'd  'gainft  a  rock  that  topp'd  the  flood  : 
Her  tender  heart  wirh  frantic  forrow  thrilling, 

Wild  as  the  ftorm  that  hoxvl'd  along  the  fhore, 
No  longer  could  refift  a  ftroke  fo  killing, 

'Tis  he,  fhe  cried,  nor  fliall  I  fee  him  more  ! 
Why  did  he  ever  truft  the  tickle  ocean, 
Sorrow's  my  portion, 

Mifcry  and  pain  ! 
Break  my  poor  heatt. 
For  now  we  part, 

Never  to  meet  again, 
Mild  was  the  eve,  a!l  nature  was  fmiling, 

Four  tedious  years  had  Nancy  pafs'd  in  grief, 
When,  with    her   children   the  fad  hours  beguiling, 

She  faw  her  William  fly  to  her  relief? 
Sunk  in  his  arms  with  blifs  he  quickly  found  her, 

But  foon  return'd  to  life,  to  love,  and  joy, 
While  her  grown  yoting  ones  anxioufly  furround  her, 

And  now  Will  cLiips  his  girl  and  now  his  boy  : 

Did  I  not  fay,  though  'tis  a  fickle  ocean, 

Sonow's  all  a  notion, 
Gritf  all  in  vain  ? 

My  joy  how  fweet, 

For  now  v,\-  meet, 
Never  to  part  again  ! 


BALLAD  -  IN    PRIVATE  THEATRICA'-S. 


LIFE'S  a  jeft,  fays  the  poet,  arrah  furt  'tis  a  pun  — 

Men  call  black  for  white  through  fome  quibbling  pre 

tence, 
And  expreifioiis  ftill  ufe  where  the  found  is  all  one, 

Though  as  dirlant  as  London  from  Dublin  the  fcnfe 
Then  let  'era  now  jaft  go  their  gig  and  their  fun, 
This  life  by  my  foul'*  nothing  more  than  a  pun, 
Where  men  play  on  uur  paffions  to  turn  us  all  fools, 
And  make  puns  and  quibbles,  that  we  may  make  bulls 
That  h<  's  o'er  head  and  ears  the  fond  lover  declares, 

And  muft  marry  or  hang  —  the  dear  creature  befet, 
Conftnts,  little  dreaming  he  puns  while  he  fwears, 

For  the  taef  does  not  mean  he's  in  love,  but  in  debt. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED   SONGS.       169 

Then  let  them  now  juftgo  their  gig  and  their  fun, 

This  life  by  my  foul's  nothing  more  than  a  pun, 
Where  fine  dafhing  lovers  fond  widows  turn  fools, 

And   make  puns  and  quibbles,  that  they  may  make  bulls. 
That  fweet  babe,  fays  old  Bolus,  I'll  quickly  reftore 

To  that  mother  fr®m  whom  the  dear  creature  had   birth  ;  • 
Punning  rogue,  by  and  by  fir  the  child  is  no  more, 

So   he  lie*  and  fpeaks  truth,  for  he  meant  mother  earth  ! 
Then  let  them  now  juftgo  their  gig  and  their  fun, 

This  life  by  my  foul's  nothing  more  than  a  pun, 
And  thus  learned  phyficiaus  their  patients  turn  fools, 

And  make  puns  and  quibbles,  that  they  may  make  bull*. 
Says  the  courtier,  my  friend,  you  fhall  have  a  fnug  place, 

A  douceur  or  two  more  and  your  fuit  cannot  fail  ! 
The  dear  punning  courtier  gets  into  difgrace, 

And  you  get  fare  enough  a  fnug  place  in  a  jail  ! 
Then  let  'em  now  juft  go  their  gig  and  their  fun, 

This  life  by  my  foul's  nothing  more  than  a  pun, 
And  thus  courtiers  turn  their  dependants  and  fools, 

And  make  puns  and  quibbles  that  they  may  make  bulls, 
Thus  one  thing  they  fay,  and  another  exprefs, 

Thus  feathers  cut  throats,  thus  are  fycophants  civil, 
Don't  bifhops  and  ladies  fay  no,  and  mean  yes  ? 

Don't  \re  call  women  angels  for  plaving  the  devil  ? 
Then  let  them  now  juft  go  their  gig  an<l  their  fun, 

This  life  by  my  foul's  nothing  more  than  a  pun, 
Thus  men  laugh  in  their  flecvcs,  whiictbey  turn  their  friend* 
fools, 

And  make  puns  and  quibbles,  that  they  may  mak     bulls 


RONDEAU  —  IN   PRIVATE  THEATRICALS. 


WHO  calls  ?— Who  call?  ? 
Who  Wifdom  calls  by  Mom  us'  name  ? 

Who  needs  a  fample  of  my  quality  ? 
Momus  and  wifdora  are  the  fame, 

Wifdom's  god's  the  god  of  jollity. 
Let  the  dark  fage  who  low'rs  and  fcowUj 

And  broods  o'er  melancholy, 
Seek  creeping  fnakes  and  hooting  owls, 

And  call  all  pleafure  folly  : 
P 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

If  this  be  truth,  truth  fpeaks  in  lies, 

This  axiom  nought  can  vary, 
If  to  be  merry's  to  be  wife, 

To  be  wife  is  to  be  merry. 
Who  calls  ?  &c. 

Be  mortals  motives  what  they  mar, 

Pow'r,  love,  ambition,  treafure, 
In  fpight  of  all  wife  fools  can  fay, 

The  end  propos'd  is  pleafure. 
That  truth  which  contradicts  me,  lies; 

This  axiom  ought  can  vary, 
If  to  be  merry's  to  be  wife, 

To  be  wife  is  to  be  merry 

Who  calls  ?  &c. 
Sec  laughter  at  my  beck  appcarf, 

And  holds  up  men  and  manners, 
Hafte  joy's  recruit's,  Whim's  volunteers, 

Lift  under  Mom  us'  banners  : 
I  Folly  drefs  in  Wifdom's  guife, 

Nor  can  my  maxims  vary  : 
If  to  be  merry's  to  be  wife, 

To  be  wife  is  to  be  merry. 
Who  calls  ?  &c. 


RONDEAU  —  IN   PRIVATE    THEATRICALS. 

A  MIGHTY  fultan  once  for  fun 

Indulged  an  inclination, 
'Tis  odds  by  them  my  (lory's  done 

You'll  make  its  application. 
A  wag  he  fent  for  to  his  court, 

Who,  each  way  you  can  mention, 
To  furnifli  wkim,  and  fun,  and  (port, 

Still  tortured  his  invention. 

To  pleafe  thfs  fultan,  &c. 
'Mongft  Folly's  fons  and  daughters  to* 

With  Satire  did  he  wander, 
And  flill  attempting  fomething  new, 

Relying  on  the  candour 

Of  this  mighty  fultan,  &c. 
At  length  his  frolics  at.  an  end, 

Cried  one,  I  do  not  bam  you, 


D.IBDIN  s  SELECTED  SONGS.          171 

But  as  yon  merit,  my  goad  friend, 

He'll  cither  lave  or  dam  you, 

Will  this  mighty  i'uhan,  &c. 
But,  for  your  comfort,,  lie  is  juft. 

And  ealily  contented, 
Nor  to  him  e'er  did  any  truft 

Who  afterwards  repented". 
You  are  the  fultan  who  for  fun 

Indulge  an  inclination, 
I  am  the  wag — my  ftory's  done — 

Now  make  its  application. 


BALLAD IN    PRIVATE  THEATRICALS. 

IX  the  motley  feather"  d  race 
Mankind  you  may  diftindlly  trace, 
Evermore  on.pieafure's  wing 
Idly  roving. 
Fighting,  loving, 

They  chatter,  croak,  and  hoot,  and  fing. 
Kor  is  my  fimile  unfair, 
Among  the  people  of  the  air 
Are  birds  of  night  and  birds  of  day, 
Birds  that  on  each  other  prey, 
Bir.ls  that  whittle,  birds  that  croak, 
Birds  that  are  a  (landing  joke, 
Birds  that  decoy,  and  mock  and  call, 
So  like  to  birds  are  mortals  all  : 
That  in  the  motley  feather'd  race, 
Mankind  you  may  diftindtly  trace, 
Evermore  on  pleafure's  wing, 
Idly  roving, 
Fighting,  loving, 
They  charter,  croak,  and  hoot,  and  ling. 

Thou  haft  fcen  upon  the  prowl,  • 

Grave  as  any  judge,  an  owl, 

On  birds  and  mice  at  random  feize, 

For  wren,  or  linnet, 

Watch  the  minute, 
And  make  a  fnatch  by  way  of  fees : 
Lawyers,  who  deal  in  froth  and  words, 


172        IDIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

What  are  they  all  but  humming-birds  ? 
Geefe  art-  >',n  ••i.f  who  go  to  law, 
A  hoarding  mij'er's  a  jackdaw, 
Fond  dov:s,  like  'lover?,  kifs  and  toy, 
A  bulnncli  l>:  an  Irifh  joy, 
Jfcg!e«3cd  vnth'sthe  lu'rablc  wren, 
While  corm'rant:>  are  al.  aldermen  ! 

Thus  in  tit   motiey  f  ••  athtr'd  race,  &c. 
Vain  peacock*  thouhafl  feen,  wl.o  hide 
Their  ugly  fter,  though  pufPd  with  pride  ; 
Thus,  while  they  balk  iniuufliiue's  hour, 

Spacious  wonde'"1, 

Hide  the  blunders 

Of  gaudy  peacock?  ,  p'um'd  with  power  : 
Tools  fo  love  knaves  one  can't  defer/ 
The  dove-houi'e  from  the  rookery  : 
The  meercft  dolt  can  tell  you  who 
Are  like  the  -wagtail  and  cuckoo  : 
And  all  know  thofe  who  fwcar  and  He 
Are  like  the  noify  chatt'rinjj  pie  : 
A  hen's  a  flirt,  \yith  frizzi'd  top, 
And  what's  the  duclc-tail'ci-jay  ?  —  A  crop  ! 

Thus  in  the  motley  feather'd  race,  ^»c. 


»  -O- 
BALLAD  —  IN   PRIVATE   THEATRICALS. 


WHEN  I  comes  to  town  with  a  load  of  hay, 

Mean  and  lowly  though  I  fcem, 
I  knows  pretty   well   how  they  figures    away, 

"While  I  whittles  and  drives  my  ttam: 
your  natty  fparks,   and  flafhy  dames 

How  do  I  love  to  queer, 
I  runs  my  rigs, 
And  patters,  and  giggs, 
And  plays  a  hundred  comical  game?, 

To  all  that'cc-mes  near: 
Then  in  a  pet 
To  hear  "em  trr.r, 

A  mobbing  away  they  go —  _      ^ 

,'"  The  icoundrtl  Jcferrcs  to  be  horfe  wbipt  . ' 
*  Who,  me  nia'.'m  ?') 

W,,  j'all,  wo! 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.      173 

So  to  mind  them  I  ne'er  feera, 
But  whiflles  and  drives  my  team  ! 

So  as  I  fee.i.s  thinking  of  nothing  at  all, 

And  driving  as  faft  as  I  can, 
I  pins  a  queer  thing  againft    the    wall, 

Half  a  monkey,  and  half  a  man  ! 
The  mob  came  round  him  to  put  up  his  blood, 
,      While  he's  trembling  from  top  to  toe, 

My  whip  it  goes  fpank, 
I  tips  Ball  on  the  flank, 
33all  plunges,  and  paints  him  all  over  with  mud, 

Queers  his  (lockings,   and  i'poils  the  beau  ! 
Then  then  the  fweet  pretty  dear 
Ah  ceuld  you  but  hear, 

(•'  Odds  curfe  you,  I'll  make  you  know, 

"  You  infernal  villain  !" 
'  Lord  blefs  your  baby  face,  I  would  not  hurt  your 

'  fpindle  fhanks  for  the  world  !') 
Wo  Ball,  wo ! 

So  to  mind  'em  I  ne'er  feem, 
But  whiftles  and  drives  my  team. 

And  fo  gets  the  fineft  fun 

And  ft  ilk  that  ever  you  faw, 
Of  all  I  meets  I  can  queer  ev'ry  one 

But  you  gemmen  of  the  law  : 
Though  they  can  fcarcely  put  me  down, 

Says  I,  to  their  courts  when  I'm  led, 
Where  their  tails  of  a  pig 
They  hide  with  a  wig, 
How  many  ways  in  London  town 

They  dreflts  a  calf's  head. 
Then  ev'ry  dunce 
To  he  ar  open  at  once, 

Like  mill-clacks  their  clappers  go, 
("  Oh  that's  the  fellow  I  faw  grinning  through  the  horfe 

"  collar  in  the  county." 

•  I  fancy  you're  the  fellow  1  faw  grinning  through  the 
'  pillory  in  London!') 

Wo  Ba'l,  wo  ! 

So  to  mind  'tm  I  ne'er  feem, 
JJut/whiftles  and  drives  my  lean). 


P  2 


174    DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

~«-«»«V"<S><S><5!&X"X"»o« 
BALLAD — IN  PRIVATE  THEATRICALS. 


I  SIXG  of  that  life  of  delight  beyond  meafure 

That  tars  calmly  lead  on  the  boifterous  main, 
Where  toil  is  enjoyment,  where  trouble's  all  pleafure, 

And  where  men  lofc  their  lives,  a  fure  fortune  to  gain   : 
Where  you  fear  no  difcafei  but  iicknels  and  fcurvy, 

Where  the   water   ftinks  fweetly,  by  way  of  a  zeft, 
Where  you  walk  on  your  legs,  when  you're  not  topfy  turvy, 

And  where,  though  you  fleepfoundly,  you're  never  at  reft! 
Then  pufli  round  the  can,  oh  you  have  not  a  notion 

Of  failors,  their  grog,  and  their  fweethearts,  and  wives, 
Ah  give  me,  my  foul,  the  tight  lads  of  the  ocean, 

Who  though  they're  fo  wretched,  Jead  fuch  happy  lives. 
Then  you're  always  of  billows  and  winds  in  the  middle, 

That  fo  dafh,  and  fo  whiftle,  and  boddcr  your  ears, 
And  play  a  duet  with  the  tar's  fong  and  fiddle, 

So  fweetly  that  founds,  and  nobody  hears  : 
Then  to  fee  the  tight  lads,  how  they  laugh  at  a  flranger, 

Who  fears  billows  can  drown,  and  nine  pounders  can  kill 
For  you're  fafe  furc  enough,  were  you  not  in  fuch  danger, 

And  might  loll  at  your  cafe,  if  you  could  but  fit  ftill. 

Then  pufh  round  the  can,  &c. 
What  of  perils  that,   always  the  fame,  are  fo  various, 

And  through  fhot  holes  and  leaks  leave  wide  open  Death's 

doors, 
Pevil  a  rifk's  in  a  battle,  wer't  not  fo  precarious, 

Storms  were  all  gig,  and  fun,  but  for  breakers  and  fliores  ; 
In  ihort,  a  tar's  life,  you  may  fay  dat  1  told  it, 

Who  leaves  quitt  and  peace,  foreign  countries  to  roam, 
Is,    of  all  other  lives,  I'll  be  bound  to  uphold  it, 

The  beft  life  in  the  world,  next  to  (laying  at  home. 
Then  pufh  round  the  can,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN   ?RIVATE    THEATRICALS, 


THIS  here'*  what  I  does — I,  d'ye  fee,  forms  a  notion 
That  our  troubles,  ®ur  forrow»  and  ftrifc, 

Are  the  winds  and  the  billows  that  foment  the  ocean, 
As  vvc  woik  through  the  palTu^e  of  lite  : 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       175 

And  for  fear  on  life's  fea  left  the  veffel  fhould  founder* 

To  lament,  and  to  weep,  and  to  wail, 
Ii  a  pop  gun  that  tries  to  out  roar  a  ninepounder, 

All  the  fame  as  a  whiff  in  a  gale. 
Why  now  I,  though  hard  fortune  has  pretty  near  ftarv'd  me, 

And  my  togs  are  all  ragged  and  queer, 
Ne(er  yet  gave  the  hag  to  the  friend  that  had  fervcd  me> 

Or  caus-d  ruin'd  be.tuty  a  tear, 

Now  there  tother  day,  when  my  meffmate  deceiv'd  me, 

Stole  my  rhino,  my  cheft,  and  our  Poll; 
Do  you  think  in  revenge,  while  their  treachery  griev'd  me. 

I  a  court  martial  call'd  ?  —  Not  at  all, 
This  here  on  the  matter  was  my  way  of  arg'Jng, 

"Pis  true  they  han't  left  me  a  crofs, 
A  vile  wife  and  falfe  friend  though  are  gone  by  the  bargain^ 

So  the  gain  d'ye  fee's  more  than  the  lofs. 

Tor  though  fortune's  a  jilt,  and  has,  &c. 

The  heart's  all  —  when  that's  built   as  it  fhould,   found  and 
clever, 

We  jo  'fore  the  wind  like  a  fly, 
But,  i!  rotten  and  crank,  you  may  luff  up  for  ever, 

You'll  always  fail  in  the  wind's  eye  : 
With  palaver  and  nonfeiife  I'm  net  to  be  paid  off, 

I'm  a  drift,  let  it  blow  then  great  guns, 
A  gale,  a  frefh  breeze,  or  the  old  gcmir.cn's  head  off, 

I  take's  Jife  rough  and  fmcoth  as  it  runs  : 

(Jonteutj  through  hard  fortune,  &c. 


FINALE  -  IN   THE    COALITION, 


LAWYERS   pay  you  with  words,  and  fine  ladies  with  va 
pours, 

Your  parlbns  with  preaching,  and  dancers  with  capeis, 
Soldiers  pay  you  with  courage,  and  fome  with  their  lives, 
Some  men  with  their  fortunes,  and  fome  with  their  wives  .- 
Some  with  fame,  fomc  with   conscience,  and  many  throw 

both  in, 

Phyficians  with  latin,  and  great  men  with  nothing; 
I,  not  to  be  finguiar  in  fuch  a  throng, 
For  your  kindnefs  pay  you  with  the  end  of  a  fong. 
But  pleading,  engrofGng,   declaring,  and  vap'r!--.;, 
And  lighting,  and  hectoring,  and  dancing  and  capering, 


'S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

And  preaching,  and  fvvearing,  and  bullying  —  prefcribingf 
And  coaxing,  and  wheedling,  and  feeing,  and  bribing, 
And  every  profeffiona]  art  of  hum-drumming 
Is  clearly  in  fomc  fort  of  fpecies  of  humming  ; 
Humming  !  —  nay,  take  me  with  you,  the  term's  very  ftrongf 
But  I  only  meant  humming  the  end  of  a  fong, 

For  all  who  this  evening  have  paid  me  attention 
I  would  I  had  language  cf  fome  new  invention 
My  thanks  to  return,  for  where's  the  expreffion 
Can  defcribe  of  your  kindnefs  the  grateful  imprcffion  ? 
May  every  defire  of  your  hearts  be  propitious, 
Be  lading  fuccefs  the  refult  of  jour  wifb.es, 
Unimpair'd  he  your  joys,   your  lives  happy  »nd  long  ! 
And  now  I  am  come  to  the  end  of  my  fong. 


<s>  ••<>«  •"<*" 
BALLAD  —  IN  SHE  is  MAD  FOR  A  HUSBAND. 

OH  money,  thou  mafkr  of  all  things  below, 
Of  each  chain  thour't  the  principal  link  : 

TVhat  can  purchafe  a  friend,  or  can  buy  off  a  foe, 
Or  make  black  appear,  like  the  chink? 

Tour  lawyer*  phyficians,in  iLort  ev'ry  tribe, 

Who  to  eat  dip  the  pen  in  their  ink, 
Would  they  write,  or  advife,  or  confult,  or  prefcribCj 

Were  it  not  for  the  fake  of  the  chink  ? 
Of  men  and  of  women,  high,  low,  great  a-nd  fmallj 

'Tis  the  life,  'tis  victuals,  the  drink  ; 
'Tis  a  good  univcrfal  acknowlcd^'d  —  all,  all 

Revive  at  the  found  of  the  chink. 

"go  more  talk  of  Cupid,  for  thine  far  above, 

His  power  to  nothing  can  fink  ; 
I  doat  to  diffraction,  cou^d  have  her  1  love, 

Alas  !  if  I  had  but  the  chink. 


BALLAD—  IN  SHE  is  MAD  FOR  A  HVSBAN»» 


ALAS  !  where  is  my  lover  gone  ? 
la  all  the  world  I  have  but  one. 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS.  177 

Near  to  my  heart  his  image  fits, 

And  'twas  for  him  I  loll  my  wits. 
Where  art  thou  fled,  my -only  dear  ? 

To  find  thee  they  have  lent  me  here  ; 
Thoirlt  cure,  they  fay,  thefe  love-lick  fits, 

And  give  me  back.  ag.ii:i  my  wits. 
Ha  fie  then,  to  pleafure  fltew  the  way, 

For  now  in  doubt  and  fear  I  ilray. 
My  brain  with  dubious  torments  fplits  ; 

Hafle,  hafte,  and  give  me  back  my  wits. 


BALLAD — IN  SHE  is  MAD  FOR  A  HUSBAND. 

To  be  mad  for  a  hufband  is  not  a  thing  new  : 

The  widow  who  fworc  to  her  firft  to  be  true, 

And  the  moment  he's  dead  at  a  route  goes  to  cards, 

And  a  wetk  after  marries  Dick  Trim  of  the  guard*  ; 

Becaufe  truly  Dick  was  a  lufty  young  lad  : 

What  a  plague  do  you  call  fuch  a  woman  but  mad  ? 

The  young  lady,  brimful  of  the  laft  new  romance, 
Who  ogles  the  footman,  as  if 'twere  by  chance  ; 
"Who  gets  out  of  her  room  by  a  ladder  of  ropes, 
And  at  laft,  with  her  John,  who  te  Scotland  elopes. 
Leaving,  fore  in  affliction,  her  worthy  old  dad  ; 
What  a  plague  do  you  call  fuch  a  woman  but  mad  ? 
She,  becaufe  he  is  rich,  and  becaufe  fhe  is  poor, 
Who  weds  with  a  batter'd  old  rake  of  fourfcore  : 
She  at  feventy-feven  who  marries  a  boy  ; 
F  .r  title  and  rank,  fhe  who  barters  all  joy; 
Thofe  who  marry  for  motives  like  thefe  or  as  bad, 
What  a  plague  do  you  call  all  thefe  women  but  mad  ? 


BALLAD IN  SHE    IS  MAD   FOR  A   HUSBAND. 


HE  ran  to  the  farm-yard,  and  there  bit  a  hog 

That,  in  lefs  than  ten  minutes,  bark'd  jufl  like  a  dog; 

The  hog  bit  a  horfe  that  was  jufl  come  from  hunting, 

And  prc!ently  after  the  horfu  fell  a  grunting; 

Such  grunting,   and   barking,  and  barking,  and  grunting, 


178          DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

And  grunting,  and  barking,  and  barking,  and  grunting, 
The  village  will  never  have  done  with  the  talk  oa't, 
Tho'  the  wifeft  man  there  cannot  make  hog  or  dog  on't. 
A  fine  brindled  cow,  near  a  hay-flack  was  nraying, 
Which,  bit  by  the  hurfe,  was  foon  after  heard  neighing; 
The  cow  l>it  a  man,  who  was  driving  the  plough, 
V'hen   he  walk'd  on  lour  legs,  and  low  d  juft  like  the  cow. 
Such  lowing,  and  neighing,  and  barking,  and  grunting, 
And  grunting,  and  barking,  and  neighing,  and  lowing, 
The  viiliage  will  never  have  done  \vith  the  talk  on't, 
Tho'  the  wifeft  man  there  cannot  make  hog  or  dog  on't. 
The  man  bit  a  Jack-afs,  that  foon  after  ran 
Half  a  mile  on  two  legs,  and  talk'd  juft  like  the  man  ;. 
The  Jack-afs  encountered  a  fheep  in  his  way, 
And  'tis  not  to  be  mention1  d  hc;w  loud  he  did  bray. 
Such  braying,  and  talking,  and  talking,   find  braying 
And  barking,  and  grunting,  and  lowing,  and   neighing, 
The  village  will  never  have  done  with  the  talk  on't, 
Tho'  the  wifeft  man  there  cannot  nuke  hog  or  dog  on't. 
The  fheep  bit  a  wolf,  which  was  foon  heard  to  bleat, 
The  wolf  more  dumb  things  than  I've  time  to  repeat  ; 
But   the  worft  that   was  bit,  was,  alas  !  my  poor  wench! 
Heav'n  keep  us,  I  fay,  from  mad  dogs  and  the  French  ! 
Such    bleating,  and   ta;king,  and  barking  and  braying, 
And  grunting,  and  bleating,  and  lowing,  and    neighing, 
The  village  will  never  have  done  with  the  talk  on't, 
Tho'  the  wifeft  man  there  cannot  make  hog  or  dog  on't. 


BALLAD  -  IN    SHE   IS   MAD    FOR    A   HUSBAND. 


YOUNG  Doll  a  comely  village  girl 

Was  courted  by  a  huge  rich  'fquire, 
Who  offer'd  diamonds,  gold,  and  pearl, 

Or  gollip  fume's  a  wounded  liar  : 

But  to  honcft  Doll 

Virtue  was  all, 
So  he  could  ne'er  get  nothing  by  her  ; 

And  for  all  his  jeer, 

With  a  flea  in  his  ear, 
She  packing  lent  this  huge  rich  'fquire. 

One  day  as  he  had  hunting  been, 

Come  crofs  ths  field*  this  huge  rich  'f 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       179 


On  the  fineft  horfe  that  e'er  was  feen, 

And  fpying  Doll,  was  all  on  fire. 

Doll,  in  a  fright, 

Saw  him  alight, 
And  run  o'er  bramble  and  o'er  briar; 

But,  in  the  nick, 

What  a  cunning  trick, 
The  gipfy  play'd  this  huge  rich  'fquire, 
Finding  herfelf  quite  overtook, 

She  tried  out  to  this  huge  rich  'fquire, 
I  fear  my  father  lees  us  —  look 

Over  the  hedge  a  little  higher. 

While  he  upon 

This  work  was  gone, 
Doll  mounts  his  horfe,  and  in  the  mire} 

Of  hope  bereft, 

She  fairly  left, 
To  curie  his  flars,  this  huge  rich  'fquire. 


BALLAD  —  IN  ENGLAND  AGAINST  ITALY. 


WHY  is  the  devil  in 

Or  are  you  fuch  a  ninny 
To  believe  of  you  fhe'll  ever  think,  perfuade  her  all  you  can 

No,  no,  whate  er  believe  you, 

Your  hopes  will  all  deceive  you, 
"For  a  girl  of  fenfe  will  yield  to — not  a  monkey  but  a  man. 

Zounds  can  that  hat  and  feather, 

Or  the  coxcomb  altogether, 
A  'fquire  of  fi'k,  and  mandrake — a  mere  flafli  in  the  pan 

H-s  pretty  fclf  admiring, 

Be  ought  but  hate  infpiring, 
When  a  woman  always  yield*  to — not  a  monkey,  but  a  man. 

Then  give  this  folly  over, 

No  i  longer  play  the  lover, 
Tor  I  plainly  tell  you  'tis  a  mighty  filiy  plan  ; 

Or,  fpight  of  all  your  vapouring, 

I'll  fo  tinely  fpoil  your  capering, 
You  fhall  own  this  arm  belongs  to — not  amoRkey,but  a  mam. 


180        DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

•••o~M>~<SS"^5><S>-*""XV~ 
SONG — IN  ENGLAND  AGAINST  ITALY. 

ON  Crochetini  loves  attend, 

Each  day  fome  beauty  to  difcovcry 
In  prudent  age  to  find  a  friend, 

And  make  of  ev'ry  youth  a  lover. 
The  raviflied  birds  in  throngs  appear, 

Where,  with  her  notes,  the  woods  arc  ringing, 
And  nightingales  vith  pleafure  hear, 

To  borrow  fwectnefs  from  her  finging. 


BALLAD— 'IN    THE  FORTUNE   HUNTER. 

THE  willing  foul  well  pleas'd  delight* 

To  heal  the  ftranger's  grief; 
Nor  will  its  hofpitable  rights 

From  worth  withhold  relief: 
But  fti'l  ve  (liould — deceitful  left 

The  tear  we  wifh  to  dry — 
Diftinguifh  'twixt  the  gen'rous  gueft, 

And  the  infidious  f'iy. 
Our  pafTion?  each  fliould,  ftation'd  well, 

Have  fome  good  poft  apart, 
And,  as  a  wary  centinel, 

Prudence  Ihould  guard  the  heart; 
Thus,  like  icamp,  the  human  breaft 

Mi^hi  a  furprife  defy  : 
Rewarding -fti  11  the  gen'rous  gueft, 
"  punifhing  the  fpy. 


BALLAD  —  IN   THE  FORTUNE  HUNTER. 


FOR  wcdlock'i  a  voyage,  where,  fhould  boifterous  billows 

Ariteto  diOurb  of  \'ur  lives  the  calm  fea, 
Peace,  joy,  and  delight,  wou!d,  dtferting  our  pillows, 

Leave  behind  a  ftrong  wiili  once  again  to  get  free. 
Domctlic  difqaiet,  like  quickfand  or  fliallow, 

\Vould  the  vcffel  of  Love  fbock  in  every  part, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.        181 

Rocks  of  Anger  would,  bruife  her,  or  Hates  ocean  f  wallow, 

And  the  temped  of  Marriage  would  llripwreck  the  heart, 
But  gayly  her  courfc  through  the  fea  of  life  bending, 

With  a  furface  that  kiilcs  the  generous  gale, 
Each  effort,  each  wifli,  each  aftech'on,  ttill  tending 

To  (leer  by  Love's  compafs,  and  hoift  Reaibn's  fail. 
The  fenfes,  that  crew  of  the  mind,  all  in  motion, 

To  make  the  voyage  prcfp'rous  exert  ev'ry  art, 
While  the  veffel  tow'rs  on  the  face  of  the  ocean, 

'Till  in  wedlock's  kind  haven  rides  fafely  the  heart. 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE   MISCHANCE. 


FOR  I  am  the  girl  that  was  made  for  my  Joe, 
And  Joe  is  the  lad  that  was  model'd  for  me, 
Our  tempers  agree  ; 

And  all  the  world  over  with  him  would  I  go, 
And  work  late  or  early,  nor  think  it  a  pain, 
For  I  ne'er  lov'd  my  Toe  for  the  hicre  of  gain. 

If  fo  be,  by  good  chance,  fuch  a  fortunate  thing 
Was  to  happen,  for  me  to  be  crowned  a  queen, 
'Twould  quickly  be  feen, 

If  they  did  not  confent  to  make  Joey  a  king, 

That  for  Bet  they  might  get  who  they  would  for  to  reign, 

For  I  ne  er  lov'd  my  Joe  tor  the  lucre  of  gain, 

O'Conner,  he  in  the  fea-acbes  that  plies, 

I     Ap  Skenkin,  the  Wclchman,  Mac  Plicrfon  the  Scot, 
For  his  fake  went  t:>  pot  ; 

Nay,  (though  many  a  girl  would  have  thought  him  a  prize), 
1  refus'd  a  Jew  broker,  from  Petticoat-l.uie, 
For  I  ne'er  lov'd  my  Joe  for  the  lucre  of  gain, 


BALLAD  —  IN  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS, 


I  AM  a  chairman  my  name  is  Me  Gee, 
Ko  (lower  in  May  was  ft)  blithe  as  me, 
Till  that  luftard  Cupid,  loclg'd  in  difguife 
In  pretty  Bridget's  two  good  looking  eyes, 


182         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Arrah  is't  you,  the  urchin  cry'd, 
I've  a  ftrong  bow  I  never  try'd  ; 
Like  a  fhelalah  he  then  chofe  a  dart, 
And  what  a  whack  it  gave  my  heart. 
And  fiuce  that  time  I  grunt  and  figh, 
And  fob,  and  moan,  becafe  as  why 
I  ftrive  to  hate,  but  am  ne'er  the  nigher, 
By  her  frofty  looks  1'ra  all  on  fire. 
Oh  !  Bridget,  Bridget,  cafe  my  pain, 
Or  give  me  back  my  heart  again, 
Or  eife,  in  troth,  do  all  I  can, 
My  partner'll  foon  be  an  odd  man. 


BALLAD — IN  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS. 


A  WORD  in  your  ear  if  you  pleafe  Mr,  Fop, 

No  more  in  this  pickle  be  roaming; 
But  pull  off  your  fool's  jacket,  ftep  home  to  your  fliop, 

And  gentlemen's  pig-tails  be  combing. 
Be  advis'd  by  a  fool,  by  my  foul,-  and  dat's  me, 

Though  we  fancy  it  never  fo  greedy, 
'Tis  not  for  the  likes  of  fuch  people  as  we, 

To  be  aping  my  lord  and  my  lady. 
For  you,  Mrs.  Bridget,  if  juft  in  the  room 

Of  being  drefled  out  like  an  adlor, 
You  were  twirling  your  mop  round,  or  handling  your  broom, 

'Twould  be  more,  I  believe,  in  character. 
Be  advis'd  by  a  fool,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN    THE  OLD   WOMAN  OF  EIGHTT. 


To  ev'ry  fav'rite  village  fport 

With  joy  thy  fteps  I'll  guide  ; 
Thy  wifhes  always  will  I  court, 

Nor  e'er  ftir  from  thy  fide. 
But  when  the  fprightly  fife  and  drum, 
With  all  their  dread  alarms, 
Echo  afar 
The  cry  of  war, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       183 

When  chiefs  are  heard  to  cry  we  come, 
And  Honour  calls — To  ar.ns. 

Thy  pain  and  ple.ifure  will  I  fhare, 

For  better  and  tor  \vorfe, 
And  if  \ve  have  A  prattling  care, 

I'll  be  its  tender  nurfe. 
But  when,  &c. 

BALLAD IN   THE  OLD  WOMAN  OF   EIGHTY. 


I'VE  health,  and  I  have  fpirits  too, 

Of  work  I've  had  my  fliare  ; 
And  when  you  go,  for  love  of  you, 

I  will  your  knapfack  bear. 

Nor  this  rcfolve  e'er  will  I  rue, 

We  both  alike  will  fare  ; 
And  ftill  content,  for  love  of  you, 

I  will  your  kostpfack  bear. 
Though  thunders  growl,  ,and  li^ht'nings  blue 

In  flafhes  cleave  the  air, 
I'll  march  content,  for  love  of  you 

And  will  your  knapfack  bear. 

All  danger?,  hazardous  and  new, 

One  fmile  {hall  make  me  dare; 

Rememb'ring  'tis  for  love  of  you, 

That  I  your  knapfack  bear. 


BALLAD  -  IN   ENGLAND    AGAINST   ITALY. 


THE  falcon,  tow'ring  high  in  air, 

Difcries  afar  the  turtle  dove, 
Watching  his  neft  with  anxious  care, 

And  waiting  for  his  willimg  love. 
Nor  can  the  victim's  harmlefs   cries, 

His  foe's  infatiate  vengeance  flay, 
On  rapid  pinions  down  he  flies, 

And  pounces  on  his  tender  prey. 


184         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

••«>••••«>—  ^S><3><S>  -.«>.....<>... 
BALLAD  —  IN    THE    RAZOR    GRINDER. 


COME  all  you  maids  who  f;iin  would  —  marry, 

Learn,  learn  of  rne  the  way  to  —  chcole, 
Rather  by  liaJf  till  doomfclay  —  tarry, 

'i'han  beauty  to  an  old  man  —  lofe. 
Ah  tell  me,  how  can  wrirkles—  charm  you, 

What  joys  can  age  excite  or  —  prove, 
Let,  then;  }our  dangerous  ftate  —  alarm  you, 

And  choofe  a  young  man  that  can  —  love. 
An  old  man  always  will  he  —  wcczing, 

No  feeling,  hearing,  tafte,  or  —  light  ; 
A  young  man  always  will  he  —  piealing, 

Sprightly  all  day,  and  kind  at  —  night- 
Ah  tell  me  how,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  CRUIZES. 

THIS  life  is  like  a  country  dance, 

The  world  a  fpacious  ball  room, 
In  which  fo  many  take  a  prance, 

They  fcarcely  find  for  all  room, 
Fidlers,  and  pipers,  in  a  row, 

See  how  the  ranks  are  ciofmg, 
Each  ftrives  his  neighbour's  faults  to  fliew, 

While  he'*  his  own  expofing, 

(Pray  M.i'am  what  dance  have  you  called  ?  Matrimony 
Ma'am.  The  figure  is  extremely  eafy,  you  turn  fmgle,  run 
away  with  your  partner,  lead  up  the  midd  Ic,  back  to  hack, 
part,  and  change  partners.) 

Thus  bufied  in  the  fond  turmoil, 

They  time  by  folly  nicafure, 
Turn  a'll  their  pleafures  into  toil, 
And  fancy  toil  a  pleafure. 

Some  in  full  dance  with,  ardour  burn, 

And  fwim,  and  glide,  and  wander; 
While  others,  waiting  for  their  turn, 

Sneer,  fmile,  and  deal  out  fiandcr. 


DTBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.        185 

"  And  fo  the  Count  muft  run  away  !" 

"  Why  really  I'm  afraid  fo; 
"  His  flirt  has  ruin'd  him  at  play:" 

"  Poor  man,  I  always  faid  Ib." 

«<(Oh  no  doubt  about  it  :  —  kept  by  a  phyCcian  before  flic 
cam*  to  the  count!  —  duel  with  a  young  apothecary!  —  fy- 
ringcs  loaded  with  analepfic  pills  !  —  "Pis  your  turn  to  begin 
Sir  :  —  Sir  I  beg  your  pardon," 

Thus  bufied  in  the  fond  turmoil,  &c, 

Away  they  prance  it,  fmall  and  big, 
Brown,  ginger,  fair,  and  grizzle, 
"  Lord  ma'arji  you  difconcert  my  wij, 
u  Tvvas  you  fir  tous'd  my  frizzle  !" 
*'  Right  hand  and  left,  the  figure  mind, 

*'  Lord  what  are  you  about  ma'am  ? 
"  My  dear  Mifs  Giggle  you  are  blind, 
"  My  Lady  Fuzz  you're  out  ma'am  ? 
("  Lord  ma'am  you  fhould  confider  that  the  dance  is  My 
Lord  Mayor's  Feaft  :  —  it  begins  with  a  fet  to,  and  finiilies 
•with  a  reel,)" 

Thus  bufied  in  the  fond  turmoil,  &c. 

Thus  dance  fucceeding  after  dance, 

As  if  old  Nick  had  got  'em, 
They  fcandat  vent,  and  flirt,  and  prance, 

And  foot  it  to  the  bottom. 
Thus  having  made  for  others  fport,   , 

In  regular  rotation, 
With  fwinging  intercft  they  retort 

On  them  the  obligation. 

«'(  Lord,  did  you  ever  fee  fucli  a  fright  as  that  -woman! 

*ubbed  it  all  off  one  fide  of  her  face  !  But  look  at  that  man, 

with  his  falfe  calves  turned  before  !—  Come,  come,  ladies 

and  gentlemen,  a  new  dance.  —  Strike  up  none  fo  Pretty)." 

Thus  bufied,  &c. 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE    QUIZES. 


PRAY  ladies  think  not  I  prefume 
The  art  of  love  to  teach  you  ; 

Proficients  long  ygo  become, 

My  counfel  could  not  reach  you : 


i86         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

A  hint  I  offer,  nothing  more, 

For  your  determination, 
Love's  myfteries  would  you  explore, 

Obferve  the  feather'd  nation. 
As  in  a  mirror,  may  you  there, 

Of  love,  make  your  elections, 
As  you  choofc  ribbands  at  a  fair, 

To  fuit  with  <dl  complexions. 

The  cuckoo,  that  one  fulfomc  tale, 

Vaunts  over  fo|  and  over, 
May  fooner  than  the  dove  prevail, 

With  fome,  by  way  of  lover  : 
But  I  have  heard  the  laughing  loves, 

More  truly  aim  their  arrows, 
When  Venus  harneffes  her  doves, 

Than  when  flic's  drawn  by  fparrows : 
But  if  the  fmalleft  hint  by  you 

To  this  fliould  be  objected, 
With  deffercnce,  fo  much  your  due, 

1  foon  fhall  ftand  corre&ed. 

The  peacock,  with  fuch  /lately  pride, 

His  haughty  bofom  throbbing, 
May  fcorn,  while  hopping  by  his  fide, 

The  bleft,  though  humble  robin  : 
But,  fparingly  true  joy  is  lent,  " 

To  envy,  pride,  and  malice  : 
'Tis  faid  a  cottage,  and  content, 

Sometimes  outweighs  a  palace  : 
Yet  may,  againft  my  playful  verfc1, 

No  fit  of  anger  fdze  you  : 
1  would  not,  for  the  univcrfe, 

Do  ought  that  could  di{j>lcafe  you. 
Jays,  pies,  and  all  the  chattering  crew, 

To  folly  giv'n,  and  pleafure, 
May  turn  to  jcft  the  choien  few, 

Who  love  by  virtue  meafure  : 
Not  fo  the  grateful  nightingale, 

Who  foon  as  evening  clofes, 
His  orgies  offers  in  the  vale, 

To  heav'n,  ere  he  rcpofcs. 
Of  this  you'll  judge,  as  of  the  reft, 

Yet,  while  the  fmile's  beginning, 
Ere  you  turn  counfel  to  a  jeft, 

Take  care  that  laughing's  winning. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         187 

BALLAD — IN   THE  (QUIZES. 


WOULD  ye  fee  the  world  in  little, 
Ye  curious  here  repair, 

We'll  fuit  you  to  a  tittle, 
At  this  our  ruftic  fair. 

We've  glitt'ring  baits  to  catch  you, 
As  tempting  as  a  court; 

With  whim  for  whim  we'll  match  you, 
And  give  you  fport  for  fport. 
From  a  fceptre  to  a  rattle, 
We've  every  thing  in  toys, 

For  infants  that  fcarce  prattle, 
To  men  who  1H11  are  teoys. 

Cock  horfes,  and  ftate  coaches, 
In  gingerbread  are  fold, 

Cakes,  parliament,  gilt  watches, 
And  horns  all  tipt  with  gold. 
Then  if  for  fine  parade  you  go, 
Come  here  and  fee  our  puppet  {hew. 
Walk  in  here  ladies  and  gentlemen  ;    here  you   fee 
the  Queen  of  Sheba,  and  King  Solomon   in  all   his  glory ; 
you  think  that  figure's  alive,  but  he  is  no  more  alive  thaa 
lam! 

While  the  pipes  and  the  tabors  rend  the  air, 
Hafte  neighbours  to  the  fair. 

What's  your  fweepQakes,  and  your  races, 
And  ali  your  fighting  cocks, 

To  our  horfe  collar  grimaces, 
And  giils  that  run  for  fmocks? 

Our  Hobs  can  fwivle  nofes, 
At  fingle-ftick  who  fight, 

As  well  as  your  Mendozas, 
Though  not  quite  fo  polite  : 

In  their  deceptions  neater, 
Are  your  keen  rooks  allow'd, 

Than  is  yonder  fire  eater, 
Who  queers  the  gaping  croud  ? 

Then  boa  ft  not  tricks  fo  noxious, 
That  genteel  liie  l>cfpeaks, 

Our  jugler's  hixious  loxious, 
Shall  diftaiice  all  the  greeks. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS- 

Can  Pharoah  and  his  hoft  be  found, 
To  match  our  nimble  merry-go-round  ? 
Put  in  here,  put  in,  put  in  !  every  blank  a  prize  !   dow» 
with  it  and  double  it,   twenty  can  play  as  well  as  one. 
While  the  pipes,  &c. 

Hear  yon  mountebank  allure  ye, 
Of  difeafes,  by  the  fcore, 

A  fingle  dufe  fhall  cure  ye  : 
Can  Warwick-  lane  do  more  ? 

Wid  virligigs,  tetotums, 
Ton  Jew's  impofliing  faifh, 

Shall  cheat  you  here  in  no  times, 
All  one  as  in  Duke's  place. 

Hark,  yonder,  making  merry, 
full  many  a  happy  clown  ! 

For  champaign  who  drink  perry, 
As  good  as  that  in  town. 

Tfaen  for  fights,  we've  apes,   and  monkies, 
Some  on  four  legs,  fome  on  two  j 

Tall  women,  dwarfs,  crept  donkies, 
For  all  the  world  like  you. 

Then  would  ye  RaneLgh  find  out, 
What  think  ye  of  our  Roundabout  ! 

Walk  in  ladies  and  gentlemen  !  the  only  booth  in  the  fair.; 

here  ye  may  make  the  whole  tower  of  the  world  ;  would  yc 

ride  in  the  caravan,  the   expedition,  the  land  frigate,  or  the 

dilly  !  fourteen  miles  in  fifteen  hours,  ladies  and  gentlemen! 

While  the  pipes,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN   THE   QUIZES. 

YOUNG  Mog,  arrived  at  woman's  growth, 
Felt  fomethingin  her  bofom  move  : 

'Twas  neither  joy,  nor  pain,  yet  both, 

Young  Ralph  o'th  woodland  faid  'twas  love. 

Ralph  lov'd  young  Moggy  as  his  life, 
Was  wealthy,  warm,  and  well  to  do  : 

But  Moggy  faw  the  foldiers  come, 
Beheld  the  gHtt'ring  arms  fo  gay, 
Was  charm'd  with  the  loud  trumpets  bray, 

Delighted  with  the  fprightly  life, 

And  deafened  with  ths  thund'ring  drum  : 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.        189 

Whi'e  foldiers  march'd  to  the  loud  tattoo, 

And  though  to  honeft  Ralph  (till  true, 

She  liilened  to  the  loud  tattoo, 
I've  faid  that  Mog  was  debonair, 

Nor  was  their  admiration  fmall  : 
She  was  thought  artlefs,  young,  and  fair, 

3y  the  regiment,  pioneers,  and  all. 
Each  would  have  ta'en  her  for  hu  wife, 

Ala  militaire,  as  foldiers  do  ; 
The  fsnock-fac'd  eniign  nam'd  hi;  fum, 

The  fergeant  promis'd,  fwore,  and  pray'd> 

The  trumpeter  her  praifes  bray'd, 
To  charm  her  loudly  fqueak'd  the  fife, 
The  drummer  brac'd  his  thur.d'ring  drum, 

To  win  her  heart  with  a  loud  tattoo. 

Thus  ftrove,  to  make  young  Hog  untrue, 

Pike,  trumpet,  fife,  and  loud  tattoo. 

Mog  foon  found  reafon  to  condemn 

The  nonfcnfe  of  each  bluft'ring  elf  : 
And,  looking  with  contempt  on  them, 

Some  little  fliame  took  to  herfclf. 
Dctermin'd  new  to  he  the  wife 

Of  honeft  Ralph,  fo  kind  and  true, 
Cried  flie  to  the  enfign,  chiid  go  home 

To  your  mamma.  —  For  you,  old  Bluff, 

Your  trumpet's  like  your  felt',  a  puff! 
I'll  not  be  whittled  after,  fife, 
Nor,  drummer,  fliall  yoar  hollow  drum 

To  me  beat  Wed.ock's  loud  tattoo. 
True  to  my  Ralph,  to  honour  true, 

Hence  trumpet,  life,  and  loud  tattoo. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  qjrizEs. 

WHAT  art  thou,  facinating  war, 

Thou  throphied,  painted  pert, 
That  thus  men  feek,  and  they  abhor, 

Purfue,  and  yet  detett  ? 
Are  Honour  and  Remorfe  the  fame  ? 

Does  Murder  Laurels  bring  ? 
Is  Rapine  Glory  ?  Carnage  Fame  ? 

Flies  Crime  on  VidVry's  wing  ? 
Their  wrongs,  who  never  fliall  return, 


190       DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Their  woes,  that  but  furvive  to  mourn 
E'en  when  the  battle  rages  high, 
When  to  the  charge  the  legions  fly, 

And'trumpets  ftrike  the  ear, 
Shall  from  the  braveft  wrefl  the  ugh, 

That  flarts  foft  Pity's  tear. 
Where  will  ambition's  folly  reach  ! 

Sure  nature  ne'er  defign'd 
Her  noble  gifts  an  art  fliould  teach, 

To  man,  to  thin  his  kind  ! 
Well  they  deferve  their  county's  carcj 

In  its  defence  who  fight, 
Who  bulwarks  of  their  nation  are, 

Its  glory,  its  delight  : 
Yet  tor  their  wrongs,  who  ne'er  return, 
Their  woes,  who  but  furvive  to  mourn, 
E'en  when  the  battle  rages  high, 
When  to  the  charge  tht  legions  fly, 

And  trumpets  cleave  the  ear, 
The  truly  brave  ll\all  htave  a  figh,  . 

Shall  vent  kind  Pity's  tear. 
Then  do  not,  for  an  empty  name 

A  phantom  thus  puifue  : 
Think,  that  if  Glory  mark  thy  far.ie, 

Murder  fhall  mark  it  too. 
Reafon,  and  Peace,  and  Love  dwell  here, 

And,  if  for  others  woe, 
We  heave  the  figh,  and  dart  the  tear, 

From  guilt  they  never  flow. 
Ah  ftay,  left  thou  fhould'ft  rit'er  return, 
Left  I  fliould  but  furvive  to  mourn,. 

Lelt  when  the  battle  rages  high, 
When  to  the  charge  the  legions  fly, 

And  trumpets  cleave  the  ear, 
Thy  fate  demand  the  generous  figh, 

And  mine  the  pitying  tear. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  CRUIZES. 

THE  paffing  bell  was  heard  to  toll, 

John  wail'd  his  lofs  with  bitter  cries, 

The  parfon  prayed  for  Mary's  foul, 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS. 

The  fexton  hid  her  from  all  eyes. 
"  And  art  thou  gone," 
Cried  wretched  John, 
Oh  dear  'twill  kill  me,  I  am  Hying  : 
Cried  Neighbour  Sly, 
While  (landing  by, 
c<  Lord  how  this  world  is  giv'n  to  lying!" 

The  throng  retired,  John  left  alone, 
He  meditated  'mongft  the  tombs, 

And  fpelt  out  on  the  mould'ring  ftonei, 
What  friends  were  gone  to  their  long  homes  . 
"  You're  gone  before," 
Cried  John,  no  more — 
"  Ifliall  come  foonj  I'm  almoH  dying  :'* 
Cried  Neighbour  Sly, 
While  flanding  by, 
tf  Lord  bow  this  world  is  given  to  lying  !" 

'  Here  lies  the  bones,  heav'n's  will  be  done, 
t  Of  farmer  Slug-. — reader  would'ft  know 
4  Who  to  his  m'em'ry  raifed  this  Hone? 
'  "Twas 'his  difconfolate  widow.' 
Cried  John,  "  Oh  oh  ! 
"  To  her  I'll  go, 

"  No  doubt  with  grief  the  widow's  dying  :" 
Cried  Neighbour  Sly, 
Still  Handing  by, 

H  Lord  how  this  world  is  given  to  lying  !" 
Their  mutual  grief  \v;is  fhort  and  fweet ; 
Scarcely  the  paffing  bell  had  ceafed, 

When  they  were  fped ; — the  funeral  meat 
Was  warmed  up  for  the  marriage  feall  ! 
They  vow*d,  and  fwore, 
Now  o'er  and  o'er, 

They  ne'er  would  part  till  both  were  dying  : 
Cried  Neighbour  Sly, 
Still  Handing  by, 
"  Lord  how  this  world  is  given  to  lying  !" 

Again  to  hear  the  paffing  bell, 
John  now  a  fort  of  hank'ring  feels  ; 

Again  his  help-mate  brags  how  well 
She  can  trip  up  a  hufband's  heels  : 
Again  to  the  tomb 
Each  longs  to  come, 


192          DIEDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS, 

Again  with  tears,  and  fobs,  and  fighing, 

For  Neighbour  Sly, 

Again  to  cry, 
"  Lord  how  this  world  is  given  to  lying  !" 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE   QUIZES. 

RAIL  on  at  joys  that  are  not  thine, 
That  thus  thou  leer'ft,  with  Envy's  blink, 

'Tis  not  becaufe  \ve  drink  good  wine, 
But  'tis  that  thou  haft  none  to  drink- 

What  though  two  roads  before  us  lie, 
We  on  no  crooked  path  {hall  fall, 

For  that  we  may  not  walk  awry, 
We'll  drink  till  we  can't  walk  at  all. 

Thou  fay'ft  that  wine's  the  caufe  of  ftrifc, 
That  to  the  brain  when  it  afcends, 

We  quarrel,  fo  do  man  and  wife, 
And  then,  like  them,  we're  better  friends  : 

But  here  tltou  flialt  not  have  thy  will, 
Nor  coax  good  fellows  to  a  brawl  ; 

Rather  than  of  our  friends  think  ill, 
We'll  drink,  till  we  can't  think  at  all. 

Thou  call'ft  the  glafs  a  foe  to  love, 
Why  fool  'tis  Cupid's  deareft  boaft, 

IVhat  fair  did  celebrated  prove, 
Till  celebrated  as  a  toaft  ? 

But  imperfections  fhouid  there  be, 
That  fometimes  to  their  lot  may  fall, 

Rather  than  faults  in  ladies  fee, 
We'll  drink  till  we  can't  fee  at  all. 

Thou  i'ay'ft  that  trcafon  lurks  beneath, 
And  our  convivial  pleafure  fours; 

Thou  Heft,  that  monftcr  does  not  breathe, 
That  dares  profane  a  king  like  our's 

But  our  firm  loyalty  to  prove, 
And  clioakthee  with  thy  ranc'rcus  galJ? 

Rather  than  in  a  fa&ion  move, 
We'll  drink  till  v  e  can't  move  at  all. 

Yet,  after  all,  abufe  our  joy, 
his  cynic  fpite  of  thine  ; 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

When  thou  haft  faid  thy  worft,  old  hoy, 
Thou  canfl  not  fay  we  drink  bad  wine. 

We  envy  no  man's  pleafures,  we; 
Still  ready  at  each  generous  call  ; 

Nay,  rather  than  fpcak  ill  of  dice, 
We'll  drink  till  we  can't  fpeak  at  all. 


193 


BALLAD  —  -IN  THE 


COME  all  hands  ahoy  to  the  anchor, 
From  our  friends  and  relations  to  go  ; 

Poll  blubbers  and  cries,  devil  thank  her, 
She'll  foon  take  another  in  tow. 

This  breeze,   like  the  old  one,  will  kick  us, 
About  on  the  beiflcrous  main, 

And  one  day,  if  death  ihould  not  trick  us, 
Perhaps  we  may  come  back  again. 

With  a  will  ho  then  puil  away  jolly  boys, 
A.t  the  mercy  of  fortune  we  go  ; 

We're  in  for't  then  damme  what  folly  boys 
For  to  be  downhearted,  yo  ho  ! 

Our  Boatfwain  takes  care  of  the  rigging, 
More  fpeflioufly  when  he  gets  di  unk  ; 

The  Bobftays  fui-plics  him  with  f wigging, 
He  the  cable  cut>  v.p  for  old  junk  : 

The  f:r.J.:i;v"-i"ail  i?rves  for  his  hammoc, 
With  the  clue-lines  he  bought  him  his  call, 

While  K'.ifigns  and  Jacks  in  a  mammoc 
lie  fold  to  buy  trinkets  for  Poll. 
With  A  will  ho,  &c. 

Of  the  Purfer  this  here  is  the  maxim, 
Slops,  grog,  and  proviiion  he  fatks  : 

How  he'd  look,  if  you  was  but  to  ax  him, 
With  the  Captain's  clerk  who  'tis  goes  fnacks  ; 

Oh  he'd  find  it  another  guefs  (lory, 
That  would  bring  his  bare  back  to  the  cat, 

If  his  Majedy's  honour  and  glory, 
Was  only  juft  to'd  about  that. 
With  a  will  ho,   &c. 

Our  Chaplain's  both  holy  and  godly, 
Aud  fets  us  for  heaven  agog  ; 
R 


1-94'      DIBDIN  5  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Yet  to  my  mind  he  looks  rather  oddly, 
When  he's  fwcaring  and  drinking  of  grog  : 

When  he  took  on  his  knee  Bct;y  Bowfcr, 
And  talk'd  of  her  beauty  and  charts, 

Cried  T  which  is  the  way  to  heaven  now  fir  ? 
Why  you  dog,  cried  the  Chaplain,  her  arms. 
With  a  will  ho,  &c. 

The  Gunner's  a  devil  of  a  bubbcr, 
The  Carfindo  can't  fifh  a  mart, 

'1  he  Surgeon's  a  lazy  land  lubber, 
The  Maftcr  can't  fleer  Jf  he's  aft, 

The  Lieutenants  conceit  are  all  wrapt  in, 
The  Mates  fcarcely  merit  their  flip, 

Nor  is  there  a  fwab,  but  the  Captain, 
Knows  the  Item  from  the  ftcrn  of  the  lliip. 
With  a  will  ho,  &c. 

Now  fore  and  aft  having  abufed  them, 
Juft  but  for  my  fancy  and  gig, 

Could  I  find  any  one  that  ill  ufcd  them, 
Damn  me  but  I'd  tickle  his  wig, 

Jack  never  was  known  for  a  railer, 
'Twas  fun  ev'ry  word  that  I  fpoke, 

And  the  fign  of  a  true  hearted  failor, 
Is  to  give  and  to  take  a  gocd  joke. 
With  a  will  ho,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN   THE  QUIZES. 


THE   furge  hoarfe'y  murm'ring, '  young   Fanny's   grief  I 

mocking, 
The  fpray  rudely  daflnng  as  fait  as  her  tears , 

The  fhips  in  the  offing,  perpetually  rocking, 
Too  faithful  a  type  of  her  hopes  and  her  fears. 

'Twas  litre,  fhe  cried  out,  that  Jack's  vows  were  fo  manv, I 
Here  I  bitterly  wept,  and  I  bitttriy  weep  : 

Here  heart-whole  he  fwore  to  return  to  his  Fanny, 
Kear  the  trembling  pine  that  nods  over  the  deep. 

Ah  mock  not  my  troubles  yc  pitilefs  breakers, 
Ye  winds  do  not  thus  melt  my  heart  with  alarms, 

He  is  your  pride  and  mine,  in  my  grief  thtn  partakers, 
My  fai'.or  in  fafety  waft  back  to  my  arms. 


DIEDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS.         I  y$ 

Yi;cy  are  deaf  and  ungrateful : — thefc  woes  are  too  many  ; 
;icre  will  I  die,  where  I  bitterly  weep  : 

Some  true  lover  ftiall  write"  the  fad  fate  of  poor  Fanny, 
On  the  trembling  pine  that  hangs  ov,er  the  deep. 

Thus  her  heart  i'adly  torn  with  its  wild  perturbation 
Ko  frieud  but  her  forrww,  no  hope  but  the  grave  ; 

Led  on  by  her  grief  to  the  laft  defpcratiou, 
Stic  ran  to  the  cliff,  ar.d  plung'd  into  the  wave. 

A  tar  fav'd  her  life  : — the  fond  tale  lliall  plcafc  many  ; 
Who  before  \\opt  her  fate,  now  no  longer  lhail  weep  : 

'Tv.'?.3  her  Jack,  who,  returning,  had  fought  out  his  Fanny, 
Near  the  trembling  pine  that  hangs  over  the  deep. 

»<>••  ••<>•••<»>  ^^>  -S3>  ••<>—  -*<v~ 
BALLAD  — IN  THE  (QUIZES. 


As  Wit  and  Beauty,  for  an  hour, 

The  other  day  were  jarring, 
Which  held  o'er  man  funerior  po\v'r, 

They  almoft  came  to  fparring  : 
Cried  Reaf;>n,  Wit  you're  grown  a  fool, 

You-  look  quite  ugly,  Beauty  : 
Come  take  me  with  you,  both  be  cool, 
Sure  mortals  know  their  duty  : 
To  them  fubmit, 
Whether  'tis  Wit, 
They  moft  admire,  or  Beauty. 
So  faid,  fo  done,  out  they  both  fet, 

With  Reafon  to  protect  'em, 
Rcfolv'd  that  the  firft  men  they  met, 

Should  tothe  truth  direvSl  'em. 
Inftant  they  aik'd  a  midnight  throng, 
Who,  to  Eacchu?  paid  thsir  duty, 
Wit,  cried  out  they,  teems  in  our  fong, 
But  'tis  infpired  by  Beauty. 
Learn  wifdom,  Wit, 
Like  us,  fubmit 
To  the  fweet  power  of  Beauty. 
Crie.l  Wit,  no  tricks  on  travellers  here, 

I  faw  you  fmile,  you  gipfy ; 
'T\vas  brib'ry  and  corruption  clear  ; 
BeHdes,  the  rogues  were  tipfy  : 


196 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 


Yon  hard  the  truth  will  quickly  hit  : 

Come,  poet,  do  your  duty  : 
Do  •you  not  owe  your  fame  to  Wit  ; 
To  Wit  foul  !  —  no,  to  Beauty. 
.Adieu  to  Wit, 
When  men  fuhmit 
To  be  the  flaves  of  Beauty. 

Quaint  rogue,  with  his  fatiric  pagf  j 

1  he  fellow  is  a  lover  : 
If  I'm  condemn'd  by  yonder  fagey 

I'll  give  the  matter  over. 
Did'ft  not  the  w.'i-ld,  fay  Hermit,  quit, 

Impoiing  this  hard  duty, 
Better  to  contemplate  on  Wit  ? 

"  No,  to  reflet  on  Beauty." 
Then,  in  fond  fit, 
He  turn'd  from  Wit, 

Andfqueez'd  the  hand  of  Beauty.- 

"  Wit  rules  the  mind,  Beauty  the  heart, 

"  Friend  one,  and  \vife  the  other  ; 
"  Thus,  cleaving  to  the  better  parr, 

''  Men  leave  friend,  father,  brother  : 
"   Hence,  cried  the  fage  —  my  prefante  quit  t 

"  Adieu  friend,  know  thy  duty  :" 
Then,  fhutting  ruAe  the  door  on  Wit, 

Was  left  alone  with  Beauty  ! 

Since  when,  poor  Wit, 

Glad  to  fubmit, 
Has  owii'd  thz  pow'r  of  Beauty. 


BONDEAU  -  IN  THE  QUIZES. 


OH  the  camp's  delightful  rigs, 

At  which  fuch  crowds  are  peeping, 
Where  chaifes,  dillie:,  cars,  and  gigs 

Serve  both  to  ride  and  deep  in. 
Oh  the  joys  that  there  abound, 

Where,  lur'd  by  the  fine  weather, 
Warriors  of  every  ran'c  are  found, 
"Who,  higgled y  piggledy,'on  the  grourdj 

Li'segipfies  pig  together. 
The  morning  gun 

Begins  the  fun, 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS.  197 

Reveilles  next  the  drum  beats, 
The  fprightly  fife, 
So  full  of  life, 

And  then  the  filver  trumpets. 
And  thefe,  with  all  their  might, 
Announce  a.  fine  fliam  fight ; 
Marches,  retreats,  attacks,  and  routs, 
Proclaim'd  by  guns,  and  fhrieks,  arid  fliout?, 
Tlve  air  with  various  clangors  (ill  ; 

While  ranks  of  foot,  and  troops  of  horfe, 
Refiftlefs  ill  their  headlong  courfe, 
Bear  down,  while  fidling,  fhifting,  trimming. 
Beaux,  bells,  jew  pedlars,  and  old  women  ; 
Who,  left  in  topfy  turvy  plight. 
Exhibit,  O  ye  gods  !  a  fight 
That  beggars  Greenwich  hill  ! 
Now  either  army  ftilly  ftands, 
The  neighing  horfes  ceafe  to  prance, 
The  trumpet,  that  erfl  cried  advance, 
Now  founds  retreat  ; 
Drums  ceafe  to  beat  ; 
Foes,  turn'd  to  friends,  eager  fhake  hands ; 

On  neither  fide  the  winner  : 
No  longer  arm'd  for  a  fham  fight, 

They  tooth  and  nail  unite 
To  exterminate — the  dinner. 

Oh  the  camp's  delightful  rigs,  &c, 
Oh  for  a  mufe  of  fire,  to  fing  . 

The  conflict  of  the  day  ! 
Upon  a  plain,  in  form  a  ring, 
The  foe  within  entrenchments  lay  ;    , 
A  cover'd  way 

Hfd  each  divifion  : — At  the  fight 
The  heroes,  eager  for  the  fight, 
Arm,  and  the  enemy  iuvefT. 

Each  charge  frefh  vigour  bring?,    .. 
They  thin  the  ranks, 
Attacking  flanks 

And  wing*  : 

Legs,  heads,  and  carcafes  around 
They  in  one  flianelefs  heap  confound, 
AnH,  ris'n  to  fuch  a  favagc  heat, 
Not  only  kill,  but  all  they  kill  they  cat  ! 
And  fee,  to  urge  their  furious  courfe, 
Light  troops  the  foe  now  reinforce; 
R  2 


S  DIBDIN    S    SELECTED    SONGS. 

On  the  inftant,  as  they  ftand  amazed, 
New  works  are  raifed, 
Like  magic,  to  their  wond'finj  eyes, 
Baftions,  redoubts,  and  rav'lins  rife. 
Again  the  fignal's  given  ; 
Again  with  headlong  fury  driren  ; 
Comfits,  now  difcomfited, 
Lie  in  promifouous  ruin  fpread  •; 
Trifles,  blanc  mange,  and  jeilies  quake, 

While,  as  with  rage  they  teem, 
Whole  iflauds  they  devour  of  cake, 

And  drink  whole  feas  of  cream. 
Again  the  general  cries,  charge  all! 
The  word's  the  king  ! 
Forward  they  fpring, 
And  drink  in  favage  joy  the  blood 
Drawn  from  tLe  grape,  in  purple  flood, 
And  itrew  with  mangled  heaps  the  plain, 
And  right  the  battle  o'er  again, 
And  ilay  the  fl<iin  ! 
And  now,  the  foe  all  kill'd  or  fled, 
While  thole  that  can  walk  off  to  bed  : 
The  folemn  trumpet's  florvly  founded, 
Leave's  given  to  carry  off  the  wounded, 
And  bury  all  the  dead. 

Oh  the  camp's  delightful  rigs,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  quizes. 


WHILE  woman,  like  foft  Mufic's  charms, 

So  fwectly  blifs  difpenfes, 
Some  favourite  part  each  fair  performs 

In  the  concert  of  the  fenfes. 
Love,  great  firft  fiddle  in  the  band, 

Each  paflion  que.ls  and  raifcs, 
Exploring,  \vitii  a  matter's  hand, 

Nice  Modulation's  ma?.es ; 
Till  the  rapt  fi.ul,  fcpremely  bleft, 

Beams  brightly  in  each  feature, 
And  lovely  woman  ftands  confclltd 

The  harmony  of  Nature. 
Hark  !  with  the  penfive,  in  duet, 

The  fprightly  how  it  mingles  i 


The  prude's  the  flute,  and  the  coquette, 

The  lively  harp  that  tinkles. 
One  boldly  i'weeps  the  yielding  firings, 

While  plaintive  t'other  prates  it  ; 
Like  Cxfar,  this  to  victory  fprin^s, 

Like  Fabius,  that  awaits  it. 
With  various  gifts,  to  make  usbleft, 

Love  fkills  each  charming  creature  ; 
Thus  lovely  woman  ftands  confefled 

The  harmony  of  Nature. 
Maids  are  of  virginals  the  type, 

Widows  the  growling  tymbal, 
Scolds  are  the  flirill  and  piercing  pipe, 

Flirts  are  the  wiry  cymbal. 
All  wives  piano  forte*  are, 

The  bafs  how  old  maid  thump  it, 
The  bugle-horn  are  archers  fair, 

An  amazon's  a  trumpet. 
Thus,  with  rare  gifts,  to  make  us  bleft, 

Love  ilcills  his  favourite  creature  ; 
Aiul  thus  fweet  woman  (lands  conieflcclj 

The  harmony  of  Nature. 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE    QUIZES 


WHILE  Fancy,  as  flic  rules  the  mind, 

Sits  cock-horfe  on  the  brain, 
A  thoufind  methods  mortals  fiad 

Elylunn  to  obtain. 
'Tis  found  by  fo  diers  in  brave  deeds. 

Tars  truft  it  to  the  breeze, 
Wives  hope  to  find  it  in  their  weeds, 

Phyficians  in  their  fees. 
Thus  expectation  in  us  plants 

Alternate  hope  and  fear, 
I  know  of  one  whofe  bof'om  pants 

To  find  elyiium  here. 
The  toper  fancies  he  purfues 

Elyiium  in  the  bowl, 
The  hunk*  in  pell*  he  date  not  ufe. 

No,  not  ;o  fave  his  foul. 
The  flaiuLrer  when  he  can  revile, 
The  churl  when  he  can  warn, 


2OO    DiBUIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

The  lover  in  his  miftrefs'  fmiks, 

The  parfon  in  his  barn. 
Thus  as  they  rule  the  mind  by  tunu, 

Hope  foars  above  the  fear  ; 
I've  half  a  mind  to  tell  who  burns 

To  find  elyfium  here. 
I  -can't  refift  —  hence  prudence  !aw'*- 

I'll  finifli  the  difpute  ; 
Of  that  elyfium,  your  applaufc, 

I'm  now  in  warm  purfuit  : 
But  then,  fay  you,  to  gain  this  heav'0^  - 

What  right  can  you  afTert  ? 
Let  it  be  by  your  goodnefs  giv'n, 

It  can't  by  my  dcfert. 
So  fliall  ye  bid  my  labours  live,  . 

So  fliall  each  following  year, 
While  you  confer,  and  I  receive, 

Both  find  elyfium  here. 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE  GIPSIES. 


WHY  am  not  I  that  fragrant  flow'r, 

Near  to  .heart  Spinnctta  plac'd  ; 
Which  proudly  living  a  fweet  hour, 

Died  on  that  bofom  it  had  grac'd  ? 
Why  am  not  I  that  gentle  gale 

That  plays  around  her  coral  lips, 
Her  breath  like  violets  to  exhale, 

Which  there  eternal  necSlar  fips  ? 
Why  am  I  not  that  cryftal  wave, 

At  fultry  noon  with  pride  that  heav'd  : 
To  which  her  heav'nly  form  fhe  gave, 

Which  thought  'twas  Venus  it  receiv'd  ? 
Gods,  had  I  been  the  limpid  flream  !  -- 

But  v.-hither  do  my  fenfes  love  ? 
Sunk  in  a  dear  delicious  dream,    . 

All  things  fccm  pofDble  to  love. 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE  GIPSIES. 

LOYiTS  a  cheat  ;  we  over-rate  it  ; 
A  flatt'ring,  folfe,  deceitful  joy  ; 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS.  2OI 

A  very  nothing  can  create  it, 

A  very  nothing  can  clcftroy. 
The  light'ning's  flafL,  wliich  wondering  leaves  us, 

Obicur'd  and  darker  than  before  ; 
The  glow-worm's  tiafel,  which  deceives  us, 

A  painted  Iis>ht,  and  nothmwmore. 


BALLAD IN   THE  GIPSIES. 

PRAISE  is  a  mirror,  that  fl.ifcrs  the  mind, 

That  tells  us  of  goodnefs,  and  virtues,  and  graces  ; 
As  thai  on  our  toilet  inftructs  us  to  rind 

The  dimples  and  fmile*  which  appear  on  our  faces ; 
To  which  our  attention  we  cannot  refrain, 

Though  we  draw  off  confus'd    yet  but  fee  its  attraction, 
In  fpite  of  ourfelves  we  return  back  again, 

Regari,  are  abus'd,  and  yet  feel  fatisfaclion. 
I  know  I'm  deeciv'd,  and  I  lay  to  my  heart, 

You  believe  that  fmcere  which  is  nought  but  profunon ; 
Call  nleafure  what  foon  will  fevere  make  you  fmart, 

And  hug  that  for  a  fubftance  you'll  find  but  delufion. 
Your  praifcs  are  flalt'ry,  1  know  it  as  plain 

As  if  you  had  faid,  "  I  an.  faife  and  deceive  you  : 
B.ut  truth,  rcafon,  every  thing,  argues  in  vain; 

For  fuch  is  my  wcakncff,  I  blufli  and  believe  you. 


BALLAD — IN  THE  GIPSIES. 


GO,  proud  lover,  go! 

Take  your  heart  back  again ; 
For  me  'tis  too  low, 

Too  unworthy  a  chain. 
Be  haughty,  imperious,  this  gipfy  defpifc  ; 
You  rife  hut  to  fall,  while  I  fall  to  rilv. 

True  love,  never  erring, 

Has  no  feififh  fears; 
That,   the  more  'tis  conferring, 

The  nobler  appears : 

It  has  no  fordid  views,  no  vile  ends  for  its  guide, 
"I'is  uujoverii'd  by  iut'reft,  uniuflucnc'd  by  pride,, 


2O2  DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

BALLAD — IN   THE   GIPSIES. 


YES,  yes,  thank  heaven,  I've  broke  my  chain; 
And,  while  my  liberty  I  gain, 

While  I  my  heart  redeem, 
Indifference  lucceeJs  at  lafV, 
And  my  egregious  follies  paft 

Appear  an  idle  dreair. 

Thus  from  a  falfe  injurious  fnare, 
The  linnet  timid,  unaware, 

Hardly  efcapes  with  pain  ; 
The  feathers  he  has  left  behind, 
Are  leffons  to  him  to  remind 

Not  to  be  caught  again. 

The  warrior  bravely  counts  each  fear, 
Defcribes  the  peril  of  the  war, 

Well  plcafed  his  dangers  o'er  : 
The  (lave  at  laft  exempt  from  pain, 
With  fmiles  behold  that  very  chain  • 

Which  held  him  to  the  oar. 


BALLAD  —  IN  THE  GIPSIES. 


WHEN  we  promife  an  heir  or  a  mifcr, 

This  gold,  that  his  father's  free  land. 
We  paule  and  look  grave,  to  feem  wifer, 

And  his  fortune  read  in  his  hand. 
If  Mifs  at  fifteen  would  difcover 

When  fhc'H  like  her  mother  be  wife, 
To  promjie  a  handlbme  young  lover 

Her  fortune  we  read  in  her  eyes. 
But  if  hufbands  with  jealoufy  quaking, 

Wou'd  know  if  they  are — you  know  how,, 
We  confider — our  heat's  gravely  fhaking — 

Aucl  their  fortunes  read  on  the  brow*  . 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS. 


BALLAD  -  IN    THE    GIPSIES. 


CONTENTMENT  loft,  each  other  treafure 
To  eafe  the  mind  eflays  in  vain, 

Riches  and  pomp  take  place  of  plcafure, 
And  mifcry  leads  the  fpltndid  train. 

Fortune  pofFeffing,  not  enjoying, 
Feaftine  the  fenfes,  not  the  mind, 

In  vague  purfuits  our  time  employing, 
Wegrafp  at  all,  and  nothing  find. 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE  GIPSIES. 


COME  here,  yc  fair  ;  corne  here  each  lover, 

That  lot  Dame  Fortune  would  couccal, 
But  crofs  my  hand,  and  I'll  difcovcr  : 

I'm  mittrefs  of  her  and  her  whctl. 
To  trembling  age  we  boldly  promife, 

In  fpi&ht  of  nature,  year?  of  health; 
Widows  receive  new  hufbands  from  us, 

And  young  men  *ll  their  fathers'  wealth. 
We  give  the  fair,  Love's  influence  under, 

Young  lovers,  condant  all  thcr  lives; 
Nay,  we  e'en  dare  —  a  greater  wonder  — 

To  promife  huibands  faithful  wives. 


»<>,..  .^..^x^t^..^..  ,.«>... 
BALLAD  —  IN  THE  WATERMAN. 


IN  vain,  dear  friends,  each  art  you  try  ; 

To  neither  lover's  fuit  iuclin'd", 
On  outward  charms  I'll  ne'er  rely, 

Kut  prize  the  graces  of  the  mind. 
The  empty  coxcomb,  which  you  chofe, 

Juft  like  the  flower  of  a  day, 
Shook  by  each  wind  that  folly  blows, 

Seems  Lorn  to  flutter  and  decay. 


2O4        I31BDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Your  choice  an  honeft  afpeOft  wears; 

To  give  him  pain  I  oft  have  griev'd ; 
But  it  proceeded  from  my  fears; 

Than  me    much  wifer  are  deceived: 
I  thank  you  both,  then,    for  your  love, 

Wait  for  my  choice  a  little  while; 
And  he  who  nioft  iliail  worthy  prove, 

My  hand  I'll  offcr  with  a  fmile. 

BALLAD IN    IMITATION  OF   ANACRfiON, 

CUFID,  cried  Vulcan,  'tisnojeft, 

I'll  forge  thy  darts  no  longer,  boy  ! 
I  cannot  get  a  moment's  reft, 

Thy  folly  gives  me  fuck  employ. 
Not  againft  Pallas,  no,  nor  Mars, 

My  worn-out  patience  fo  xevolts, 
To  furnifh  arms  tor  all  their  wars — 

Nor  e'en  to  forge  Jove's  thunderbolts. 
Their  confcience  is  in  their  demands 

But  thou  wonldft  tire  me  out  in  footh 
Hixd  I  Briareus'  hundred  hands — 

Cries  Cupid — Dad,  wilt  hear  the  truth! 
The  darts,  thou  makefr,  fo  blunt  are  found  ; 

Scarce  do  I  draw  my  bow  at  men, 
But  inftantly  heals  up  the  wound, 

And  all  my  work's   to  do  again. 

Vainly  I  lavifh  heaps  ot  darts, 

And  empty  quiver  after  quiver; 
Which,  while  they  guard  their  well  arm'd  hearts 

Thci'c  lovers  into  atoms  Ihiver. 
Find  out  fome  furer  temper,  new — 

So  fliall,  like  Jove's  refiftlefs  fiat, 
My  power  grow  fix'd  as  fate — and  you — 

'Will  henceforth  live  a  little  quiet. 

Old  Mulcibcr  began  the  work — 

Forged  dart  the  firfl — quoth  Love,  let's  fee  ! 
Then  pois'd  his  bow,  and,  with  a  jerk, 

He  made  his  coup  tfeffli  on  me. 
The  flroke  h.id  power  each  wav'ring  trace 

Of  folly  from  nay  mind  to  fever  ; 
And  now  I  feel,  cne  lovely  face 

Has  fix'd  my  willing  heart  for  ever. 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS.  105 

BALLAD  —  IN  THE  WATERMAN. 

TOO  yielding  a  carriage, 

Has  oft  before  marriage, 
To  ruin  and  mifeiy  pointed  the  way; 

You're  fhun'd  if  complying, 

But  your  lover  once  Hying, 
How  eager  he'll  follow  and  l>eg  you  to  fhy. 

A  coquette  ne'er  proclaim  me, 

Ye  maid-,  then,  nor  blame  me, 
If  I  \viih  to  be  happy,  whene'er  I'm  a  wife; 

Each  lover's  denial. 

Was  only  a  trial, 
Which  is  he  that's  mofl  likely  to  love  me  for  life. 

BALLAD— IN  HARVEST  HOME. 


BE  others  the  ungracious  tallc 

Of  judging  my  too  thoughtlcfs  fex, 
By  envy  drefs'd  in  Candor's  mafk, 

That  even  Virtue's  felf  fufp 
Mine  lie  the  better,  kinder  part, 

While  I  examine  well  my  awn, 
To  pity  and  forgive  the  heart, 

That  h;ib  :raaiWefs'd  Irom  love  alone. 
Stern  Juftice  with  unihakeu  hand, 

Sprung  irom  ncceiiity  and  time, 
That  laws  he  kept  which  rule  mankind, 

Hay  iix  the  forfeit  price  of  crime. 
Judges  of  a  fofter  kind, 

Frail  error  we!!  has  reafon  given  : 
Pity  —  perfection  of  the  mind, 

And  Mercy  —  fav'rite  child  of  heaven. 


BALLAD  —  IN     THE 


SUCH  ufage  as  this  is,  what  wife  but  mjfelf 
Would  put  up  with,  and  not  figh  and  fob  ; 
S 


206         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Kn  crofs  in  her  pocket,  no  food  on  the  fhelf 
Or  what  hufband  would  let  her  hut  Snob  ? 

And  ytt,  let  me  hope,  the  ugh  for  every  crime, 
He  hr.d  more  than  there's  days  in  the  vear, 

That  his  heart  is  fo  gcod,  I  flio'uld  ftill  fee  the  time, 
When  a  different  m.m  he'd  appear. 

But  if  I'm  dcceiv'd,  while  another gtiefs  wife, 

So  treated,  would  fcold  and  revile  ; 
Though  poor,  though  confined  in  a  prifon  for  life, 

With  him  I'd  endeavour  to  fmile. 
I  Jove  him,  and  every  way  I'll  purfue, 

That  I  can,  his  afFeiftions  to  keep  : 
And  if  then  he  fliould  flight  me,  I've  nothing  to  do, 

But  to  wifh  he  were  kinder,  and  weep. 

BALLAD — IN   THE  COBLER. 

AH  have  you  forgot  then,  unkind  as  you  are, 

When  houfemaid  I  Jiv'd  at  the  Squire's 
A'!  the  wine  and  good  things   that  I  crib'd  with  fuch  care 

Ev'ry  morn  when  I  lighted  the  fires  ? 
And  have  you  forgot  how  I  lean'd  on  my  broom, 

And  in  rapnire  heard  all  that  you  faid, 
Till   fcolded  1  got  for  not  f weeping  the  room, 

And  btat  for  not  making  the  Hcd  ? 

\Vhen  you  told  me  you'd  have  me.  my  hrufh   and   my  moB 

Kept  time  while  with  pleafure  I'd  fi.ig; 
And  foon  'twas  the  talk  at  the  chandler's  fhop, 

You  had  purchas'd  the  licence  and  ring. 
But  when  you  had  married,  and  carried  me  home 

How  fweetly  my  time  pafs'd  avray  : 
You  (wore  that  you  lov'd,  that  no  longer  you'd  roam, 

Aiid  I  thought  it  would  never  be  day. 

BALLAD— IN  NONE  so  BLIND  AS  THOSE  WHO 
WON'T  SEE. 


STTE  who  linked  by  her  fate, 
To  a  four  churlifh  mate, 
And  to  fome  firurt  young  flatterer  dares  not  be  kind; 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          207 

Who  a  look  fears  to  fteal, 

That  her  flame  wouit!  reveal, 
What  would  that  woman  give,  were  her  hufband  but  blind. 

She  in  youth's  early  bloom, 

By  a  too  ftvere  doom, 
To  dccrepkl  old  age,  whole  hard  parents  have  join'd 

How  blcft  wou.'d  flie  be, 

Till  death  fet  her  free, 
Could  flic  add  to  his  gout,  that  her  lutfband  was  blind. 

In  iliort,  wcallchufe, 

With  onr  different  views, 
And  'tis  right  each  fhauld  pick  out  a  mate  to  her  mind; 

For  me,  let  my  dear, 

Sii.te  men  fee  io  clear, 
Be  b^eft  with  a  fpanking  large  fortune  —  and  blii.d. 


BALLAD  -  IN   THE  LONG  ODDS. 


A  SAYING  'tv/as,  when  I  was  young, 

That  golden  carts  take  hay  in  ; 
And  in  my  tars  my  mother  rung, 

Oft  times  this  ielf  fame  faying. 
My  dad,  who,  the  main  chance  did  think, 

Of  human  cares  the  deafelT, 
Would  cry,  whene'er  thou  goefl  to  drink, 

The  drepefi  itream's  the  clearcit. 

I  had  an  uncl?,  and  his  faw 

Wss  take  and  never  render, 
Aiui  this  he  gave  me  as  a  la\v, 

Vv  lijle  yet  my  years  were  tender. 

II  y  aunt  had  htr  good  adage  too, 

Who  alfo  was  my  tutor  : 
Sa\  s  (lie,  whoever  conies  to  woo, 

A  dowei's  a  handfome  fui'or. 
Let  me  good   fir,  add  mine  to  thcir«, 

Tell  rot  your  name  for  nothing, 
A  rule  I've  found  in  all  affairs, 

?,Ieat,  walli ing,  drink,  and  cloathing. 
Mv  ;;ir^,   who  has  her  parent's  kuack, 

For  mayims  adds  aright  t!ne; 
Ko  crows  are  found  thit  are  not  black" , 

Yet  a  rich  crow's  a  white  one. 


£oS         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

SONG  —  IN  THE    SALOON. 

ALAS!  when  once  the  book  of  life 

Draws  towards  the  lad  page, 
What  folly  then  to  take  a  wife  ! 
Our  days  are  on  the  clofe  ; 

And,  as  at  one  door  comes  in  age, 
Love  rut  at  t'other  goes. 
Is  it  not  truth, 
That  youth  loves  youth, 
Juft  as  the  zephyr  loves  the  rofe. 
This  law  I  own's  fevere,  though  juft  ; 
Eut  let  us  fince  fubmit  we  muft, 

Submit  with  a  j'Ood  grace  ; 
Laughing  at  Love  with  all  his  train, 
And  as  reafon  takes  us  reign, 

The  table  and  the  chafe, 
The  jovial  fong,  thefparkiing  wine, 
And  a  true  friend,  that   giit   divine!  >^. 

Shall  well  fupply  the  place. 


BALLAD — -IN  HARVLST  HOME. 


THERE'S  fomething  in  woirtn  their  lovers  engage, 

Of  whatever  compTexion,  or  Mature,  or  age  ; 

And  il-.'   u  !:  >  voi:t;l  fn'ghtc:i  a  mere-  flivixlci  bv, 

Is  a  Venus  hcrfelf  in  the  iond  Ic  vciS  eye. 

If  flic's  !>.•!• ,  never  fwan  was  a  tu;lh  p::rt  fo  fa;r  ; 

If  tawny,  like  jet,   are  her  eyes  and  her  h  ii;  , 

If  Xntirippc  herJuf,  herfcolding's  the  tight  v/it  : 

If  meek,  a'l  good  \vives  to  their  hufbancis  fubmit. 

If  a  p:gmy,  how  neat  are  her  aii  and  her  mien  ! 

If  a  heeple,  Ihe's  graceful,  and  walks  like  a  queen  ; 

If  a  giri  in  her  teens,  all's  handfmne  tii^t's  young  ; 

: -,-,  her  fortune  fays — World  hold  your  tongue. 
In  fii(irt  to  dear  women  'tis  givea  to  pieafe, 
Anv1  tho'the  uhim  often  il.;.n!u  take  tliem  to  tcaze, 
Tu  perplex,  to  torment,  and  a  thoufand  things  more; 
They'ie  the  deititi  ir.cu  were  all  boru  to  adore. 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 
..<  ••<>••  <g^  <35>  -O-  >~ 

GLEE. 


BACCHUS  come,  thy  voi'ry  own  me, 

'  I'is  faid  that  thou  all  cares  can'ft  end: 
A  perjured  fair  has  bafely  flown  me, 

Fled  with  a  falfe   perfidious   friend. 
Let's  drink! — 'tis  true  my  furrows  pafs  : 

New  joys  exhilerate  my  foul, 
I  find  a  friend   in  every  glafs, 

And  a  kind  miflrtfs  in  the  bowl. 

BALLAD — IN  THE  GIPSIES. 


WOULD'ST  error  leave,  to  follow  truth, 

Would- fl  all  thy  cares  fliould  end, 
Turn  here  thy  ftep*,  mifguided  youth, 

And  liften  to  a  friend. 
Nor  to  Severity  auftere, 

Nor  fond  Indulgenc< ,  lean  ; 
But  feck  fair  Moderation,  here 

She  holds  the  golden  mean. 
From  that  hand  which  proh.fJy  gives, 

Can  any  bldEng  f;ill  ? 
Or  who  a  joy  from  that  deiives 

Which  churl  refufes  all  ? 
Turn  then,  thy  errors  to  atone, 

And  fleer  a  rourfe  between; 
Fair  Woi<e'-..il')[j  'tis  alone 

That  holds  the  golden  mean. 


BALLAD IN   TH2   COBLER. 

CAY  Baechtw,  and  Mercury,  and  I, 
One  evening  a  ftrarge  froJic  took, 

And  left  the  queer  dons  of  the.flcy, 
To  take  at  queer  mortals  a  look  : 
S  1 


110  DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS. 

But  cur  vifit  ne'er  alter'd  the  fcene  ; 

The  fame  folly,  the  fame  feufclefs  mirth 
We  ftill  found,  and  'tis  this  mortals  mean 

When  they  tell  us  of  heaven  upon  earth. 
We  jciin'd  a  convivial  crew, 

Who  pufh'd  round  the  claret  with  fpunk  ; 
Bacchus  fwore  it  was  nedtar,  and  grew, 

Like  a  lord,  or  a  tinker,  foon  drunk. 
To  their  concerts,  that  tortured  my  cars, 

Noife  and  Difcord  fo  fairly  give  birth, 
That  I  thought  'twas  a  crafh  of  the  fpheret, 

And  thus  mufic  is  heaven  upon  earth. 

At  Pharaoh  we  punted  and  cock'tl, 

Till  we  fuch  an  example  were  made, 
That  Mercury  retired,  quite  fhoek'd, 

To  be  foil'd  at  his  own  proper  trade, 
In  love  mortals  all  riot  run, 

Beauty,  honour,  elleem,  private  worth, 
Politely  give  place  to  crim  con  : 

And  thus  love  is  heaven  upon  earth' 
As  to  me,  my  poor  portion  of  wit 

In  two  minutes  was  knocked  out  of  joint, 
By  pun,  jtux  d'efprit,  lucky  hit, 

And  quibble,  conundrum,  and  point. 
Thus  below  they  adl  o'er  the  lame  fcene 

We  play  here,  the  fame  clamour  and  mirth, 
And  this  is  the  nonfenfe  they  mean 

When  they  tell  us  of  heaven  upon  earth. 


GLEE  -  IN   THE   CHELSEA  PENSIONER. 


SWEETLY,  fweetly,  let's  enjoy 

The  fmiling  moments  marie  for  love; 
And  while  we  clafp  the  dimpled  boy, 

The  glafs  to  you,  to  you  fhall  move. 
And  drinking,  laughing,  jefting  neatly, 
The  time  fhall  pals  on  fweetly — fvvectly. 
Love's  arrows,  dipp'd  in  rofy  wine, 

To  the  charm'd  heart  like  light'ning  pafs ; 
And  Mars  feels  tranfport  more  divine, 

When  fmiling  Venus  fills  his  glafs. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          211 

•^>....<v..  tSX&X&tH^  •  •<>- 
GLEE IN   THE   CHELSEA  PENSIONER. 


WITH  mingled  found  of  drum  and  fife, 
We  follow  the  recruiting  life; 
And  as  w.e  march  through  every  fair, 
Make  girls  admire,  and  bumkins  ttare. 
With  bumpers  full  we  ply  Sir  Clown, 
Or  elfe  produce  the  well-tim'd  crown  ; 
And  lifting  fir  ft  the  fturdy  elves. 
We  gain  their  fweethearts  for  ourfeives. 


GLEE  —  IN   THE  CHELSEA   PENSIONER. 


TELL  me,  neighbour,  tell  me  plain, 

Which  is  the  befl  employ  ? 
Is  it  love,  \vhofe  very  pain 

They  fay  ii  perfett  joy  ? 
Is  it  war,  whole  thund'ring  found 
Is  heard  at  fuch  a  diftancc  roim.i  ? 
Is  it  to  have  the  mifei'a  hoard  ? 
Is  it  to  be  with  learning  ftor'd  ? 
Is  it  gay  Pegafu»to  rein, 
Tell  me,  neighbour,  tell  me  plain  ? 
No,  no,  will  anfwer  every  honclt  foul, 
Thebeft  employ's  to  pufh  about  the  bowl. 


SONG  -  IN    THK   CHELSEA  VENSIONER. 


A  WHILE  in  every  nation 
War  may  biaze  around, 

Still  fpreadingdefolation, 
Yet  there's  hopes  of  peace. 

Awhile  the  billows  raging, 
May  fky  and  fca  confound, 

Yet  winds  and  waves  affuaging'j 
Storms  at  laft  will  ceafc. 

13ut  ma»  by  vice  o'ertaken, 
A  tcmpeft  in  his  mind, 


112        DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

His  warring  paffions  fliaken, 
Are  reeds  as  in  the  wind. 
Rare  is  the  eloquence  that  has  the  charm, 
To  rule  that  pettiicnce,  or  quell  theftorm. 


..<>....•<>-.  ^wt;;^,-^,,.  •<>...,<>... 
BALLAD  -  IN   THE  CHELSEA  PENSIONER. 


WHEN  well  one  knows  to  love  and  pkafe, 

What  diftreflts  cm  one  prim, 
What  can  rcb  that  heart  of  cafe 

Poflefs'd  of  pleafure,  rich  in  love  ? 
Alas  !  without  this  fovereign  good, 

Whofe  power  no  e  nperor  can  ftay» 
Riches,  rank,  or  noble  blood, 

Honours,  titles,  what  are  they  ? 
One  tender  look's  to  lovers  worth 

Mure  trcafure  than  the  Indies  own  ; 
Smiles  are  the  empire  of  fhc  earth, 

The  arms  of  thofe  we  love  a  throne. 


SONG  -  IN    THE  SHEPERDESS  OF    THE   ALPS. 


IN  the  month  of  May, 

The  morning  grey, 
Firfts  peeps  a  doubtful  light; 

Three  ftrikcs  the  clock, 

The  village  cock 
N«t  crow?  with  all  his  might. 

Each  w.iking  bird, 

Chirping  is  heard  ; 
Tinge?  of  red  the  iky  adorn  ; 

JSird,  man,  aiH  bealr, 

Regard   rheeaft, 
And,  (jieas'd,  fnlufe  the  rifing  morn. 

The  fhephcrd  uoir   his  flock  unfolds  ; 
Night,  like  a  thief,  ftea'.s  flow  away  ; 

His  dii'gy  hue, 

Ug'y  to  view, 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS, 

Is  chang'd  to  a  de'ightful  blue; 
AH  nature'*  gay  ; 

And  now  the  villager  beholds, 

His  mowers  mow,  his  ploughers  plough, 

Sheep  blear,  birds  fmg,  and  oxen  low  : 
Each  rural  found  falutes  his  ears  ; 

He  whittles  to  make  one  : 

And  now, 

Uflier'd  by  all  this  fine  parade, 

In  every  fplendid  pomp  array'd, 
Appears 

The  radient  fun. 

So,  after  abundance  of  toilet  affairs, 
And  Betty  has  nine  times  run  up  and  down  flairs, 
For  lappets  and  ribbands,  and  one  thing  and  t'other, 
And  the  hor.fe  top  and  bottom's  aUirm'd  with  the  pother. 
Ar.d  a  hundred  things  more  are  done  equally  riiible, 
The  lady,  at  lafb  conciefcends  to  be  vilible. 


SONG  -  IN  THE   ISLANDERS. 


THIS  ftrange  emotion  at  my  heart 
Oh  how  ihall  1  exp'ain  ? 

'Tisjoy,  'us  grief,  :tis  eafe,  'tis  fmarr, 
'Tis  pleafurc,  and  'tis  pain! 

The  bufy  trembling  rkttertr  plays, 
It  knows  not  how  or  wi1.1/  t 

And  throbs  and  beats  a  thoufaud  ways- 
All  quitt  prithee  lie  ! 

Ceafe,  and  legations  fuch  as  thefe 
With  careful  hred  deilroy  : 

What  good  is  \:\  the  fame  degrees 
Oi  iuing'ed  pain  and  joy  ? 

BALLAD. 


I  MADE  a  pton  ife  to  lie  wife, 
E-ut  'twas  a  prom  ife  out  of  feafon  ; 

So  muchfo,  that  I'm  fare  he  !ie» 
AVho  fays  be  always  follows  Rcafon. 


114          DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

I  foon  grew  tir'd  of  Wifdom's  dream, 
And  turning  from  pale  melancholy, 

Fell  on  the  oppofite  extreme  : 
But  I  at  Jafl  grew  tired  of  Foil}'. 

Thus  feparate  :  what  was  ntxt  to  do  ? 
Perhaps  'twould  keep  them  to  their  tether 

If  I  could  work  upon  thcfe  two 
To  live  in  harmony  together. 
"     After,  of  courfe,  a  little  Itrife, 
'Twas  ftttled,  without  farther  pother, 

Ont  Ihould  be  treated  a-  a  v  if", 
And  only  as  a  miflrefs  t'other. 

Her  portion  of  my  joys  and  cares 
No'v  each,  by  my  appointment,  rv.cafuros; 

Reafon  conducts  all  my  ::fFairs, 
Ana  i'"o!l)  r.aun^cs  my  pitafurcs. 


BALLAD  —  IN    CASTLES    IN   THE   AIR. 


OfT  has  the  world  bcc-n  well  dtfin'd, 

Bv  f.iycrs  and  by  fii'g^rs, 
I  cail't  a  beifrev,  aiiri  p.M. 

I  call  the  jolly  ringers. 
Through  n:ajur  bcbs.  and  tripl 

Eacli  eTTiuioufl}  r.ing,-,  ; 
And  while  each  an:.io;^  b-;rorn  throbs, 

All  ?ry  to  ring  the  changes, 

Thtfe  college  you'hs  are  :<-.it  to  fchool, 

And  aftcrwarf's  ro  fo:lc^e, 
And  tlience  return  by  fquare  and  rule, 

Well  verfitd  in  worldly  knowledge. 
As  gcn:,u>  'cads,  to  cram  his  rra,v, 

Each  ari's  c  olc  lab'rynth  ranges, 
And  on  religion,  phyfic,  lav, 

Completely  ring  the  changes. 
The  fortune  hunter  fwears  and  lies, 

And  courts  the  widows  jointure; 
Then  with  a  richer  heircfs  flies, 

Nor  minds  to  difitppeint  her. 
The  widow  too  has  htr  arch  whim, 

Nor  thinks  his  conducl  Uranyc  is; 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

A  titled  heir,  fuccceds  'o  him, 

And  thus  fhe  rings  the  changes. 
The  waiter  pillages  the  greek, 

The  greek  the  fpendthrift  fleece?, 
The  fpendthrift  makes  dad's  fortune  fqueak, 

Dad  rackrents  and  grants  icafes. 
The  tenants  break,  gazette  reports 

Each  difference  arranges, 
Ti!l  pro  aiid  con,  through  all  the  courts, 

The  lawyers  ring  the  changes. 

Thus  like  the  btlls,  each  fear  and  hope, 

Hangs  wav'ring  and  fufpended; 
All  tug  away,  while  fome  a  rope 

Get,  more  than  they  intended. 
In  merry  cadence  as  they  roll, 

We'll  rove  where  reafon  ranges  ; 
Nor  fhall  the  bell  of  fad  IK  fs  toil, 

Till  death  fhall  ring  the  changes. 


BALLAD  -  IN   CASTLES  IN   THE  AIR. 


THE  breeze  wn1-  frefh,  the  fhip  in  flays, 
E  <ch  breaker  hufh'd,  the  fliore  a  hazej 
When  Jack,  no  more  on  duty  c  ill'd, 
His  true  love's  tokens  overhaul'd  : 
The  broken  gold,  the  braided  hair, 
The  tender  mottn,  writ  fo  fair, 
Upon  his  "»acco-box  he  views, 
Nancy  the  poet,  Love  the  mufe  : 
'•  If  you  loves  I  as  I  loves  you, 
•'  No  pair  fc  hippy  as  we  tw>." 

The  Oorm — that  like  a  fhape'cfs  wreck. 
Had  flrewed  with  rigging  all  the  deck, 
That  tars  for  tharks  !i?d  given  a  feaft, 
And  left  the  fliip  a  hulk — had  ceas'd  : 
Vt'in  Jack,  as  with  his  mefTmates  dear 
Hit  fliar'd  the  grog,  their  hearts  to  cheer, 
Took  from  his  'hacco-box  a  quid, 
And  fpelt,  for  comfort,  on  the  lid, 
'•  If  you  loves  I  as  I  loves  you, 
"  2\o  pair  fo  happy  a*  we  two  '* 


216        DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

The  battle — that  with  horror  grim, 
Had  madly  ravaged  life  and  limb, 
Had  fcuppcrs  drench'd  with  human  gore, 
And  widow 'd  many  a  wife — was  o'er : 
When  Jack,  to  his  companions  dear, 
Firft  paid  the  tribute  of  a  tear, 
Then,  as  his  'bacco-box  he  held, 
Reftor'd  his  comfort,  as  he  fpell'd 
"  If  you  loves  I  as  I  loves  you, 
"  No  pair  fo  happy  as  we  two." 

The  voyage — that  had  bten  long  and  hard. 
But  that  had  yielded  full  reward, 
That  brought  each  failor  to  his  friend, 
Happy  and  rich — was  at  an  end  : 
When  Jack,  his  toils  and  perils  o'er, 
Behe'd  his  Nancy  on  the  fhore, 
He  then  the  'bacco-box  difplay'd 
And  crie-  ,  and-feized  the  willing  maid, 
(t  If  you  loves  I  as  I  loves  you, 
"  No  pair  io  happy  as  we  two," 


BALLAD — IN   CASTLES   IN   THE   AIR. 


IF  ever  a  failor  was  fond  of  good  fport, 

'A'!on;: ft  the  girls,  why  that  failor  was  I, 
Of  .ill   lizes  and  forts,   I'd  a  wife  at  each  poit, 

Bur,  when  that  1  faw  d  Polly  Ply, 
I  huii'd  licr  :ny  lovely,  and  gov'd  her  -.  kifs, 

And  fwoic  to  bring  up  once  for  all, 
And  from  that  time  blyk-  Barnaby  fplic'd  us  to  thii 

I've  been  conihuit  and  true  to  my  Poll. 

And  yet  now  all  forts  of  temptations  I've  flood, 

For  i  afterw.ird>  laii'd  round  the  word, 
And  a  queer  fee  we  1'a.w  of  tr.c-  devil's  own  brood, 

NV'hcrevcr  our  faiis  were  unfurled  : 
Some  with  face=  like  charcoal,  and  others  like  chalk' 

All  ready  one's  heart  to  o'erhaul, 
Don't  you  go  to  I  ova   me,  my  good  girl,'  faid  I  '  walk; 

I've  fworn  to  be  couftant  io  P  ill.' 
I  met  with  a  fquaw  out  at  India,  beyond, 

All  in  g'afs  and  tobacco  pipes  dreiVd, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       417 

What  a.  dear  pretty  monfler !  fo  kind,  and  fo  fond, 

That  I  ne'er  was  a  moment  at  reft, 
With  her  bobs  at  her  nnfe,  and  her  quaw,  qnaw,  quaw, 

All  the  world  like  a  bartheimy  doll, 
Says  I,  '  You  Mil's  Copperkin,  jufl  hold  your  jaw, 

'  I've  fworn  to  be  conftant  to  i"oll' 
Then  one  near  Sumatra,  juft  under  the  line, 

As  fond  as  a  witch  in  a  play, 

•  I  loves  you,'  fays  fhe.  '  and  juft  only  be  mine, 

'  Or,  by  poilbn,  I'll  take  you  away.' 
'  Curfc  your  kindncfs,'  fays  I,  '  but  you  can't  frightea 

'  me-, 
'  You  don't  catch  a  gudgeon  thii  haul, 

*  If  I  do  take  your  ratfbane,  why  then,   do  you  foe, 

'  I  flialldie  true  and  conftantto  Poll.' 
But  I  'fcap'd  from  them  all,  tawny,   lily,  and  black, 

And  merrily  weather'd  each  ftorm, 
And,  my  neighbours  to  pleafe,  full  of  wonders  came  back, 

But,  what's  better,  I'm  groxvn  pretty  warm. 
And  fo  now  to  fea  I  fliall  venture  no  more, 

For  you  know,  being  rich,  I've  no  call, 
So  I'll  biipg  up  young  tars,  do  my  duty  afliore, 

And  live  and  die  conftant  to  Poll. 

BALLAD IN   CASTLES   IN    THE    AIR. 


THE  martial  pomp,  the  mourn'u1  train 
Befpeak  fome  honoured  hero  /lain; 
The  obfequies  demote  him  brave  ; 
Hark  !  the  volley  o'er  his  grave  : 
The  awful  knell  founds  low  and  lorn, 
Yet  ceafe  ye  kindred  brave  to  mourn. 
The  plaintive  fife,  and  muffled  drum, 
The  man  may  fummon  to  his  filcnt  home ; 
The  foidier  lives! — his  deeds  to  trace, 
Behold  the  Seraph  Giory  place 
Ai\  ever. living  laurel  round  his  facrcd  tomb. 
Nor  deem  it  harJ,  ye  thoughtlefs  gay, 
Shott's  man's  longeft  earthly  flay  ; 
Our  little  hour  ol  life  we  try, 
And  then  dcrart: — we're  born  to  die. 
T 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Then  lofe  no  moment  dear  to  fame, 
They  longeft  live  who  live  in  name, 
The  plaintive  fife,  &c. 


BALLAD  -  IN   CASTLES  IN   THE   AIR. 


SINCE  Zcoh'rus  firft  tafled  the  charms  of  coy  Flora, 

Sure  Nature  ne'er  beamed  on  fo  lovely  a  inert), 
Ten  thoufand  fweet  birds  court  the  fmile  of  Aurora, 

And  the  woods  loudly  echo  the  found  of  the  horn  : 
Yet  the  morn's  not  fo  lovely,  fo  brilliant,  fo  gay, 
As  our  fplendid  appearance,  in  gallant  array, 
When  all  ready  mounted,  vve  number  our  forces, 

Enough  the  wild  boar  or  the  tiger  to  fcare  : 
Frry  fifty  ftout  beings,  count  dog.«,  men,  and  horfes, 

Should  encounter  fuel)  peri! — to  kill  one  poor  hare  ! 

Little  wretch,  thy  fate's  hard! — thou  wert  gentle  and  blame- 
Itfs;  ' 

Yet,  a  type  of  the  world  in  thy  fortune  we  fee; 
And  Virtue,  by  numfters  as  cruel  and  flu-melds, 

Poor,  dcfcncelefi,  and  timid,  i«  hunted  like  ihce. 

See!  vainly  each  path  how  fhe  doubles  and  tries: 

If  fhe  'fc.ipe  tin  hound  Treachery,  by  blander  Hie  dies! 

To  o'ercome  that  meek  fear  for  which  men  fhould  refpeel  her, 

Ev'ry  art  is  employed,   ev'ry  fubtlc  fnare — 
Fity  thofe  who  were  boi  n  to  defend  and  protect  her, 

Should  hunt  to  her  ruin — fo  timid  a  hare  ! 
Thus  it  fares  with  poor  Merit,  which  mortals  fhould  cherifh, 

As  the  heaven-gifted  fpark  that  illumines  the  mind  ; 
As  Reafon*s  beft  honour  :  left  with  it  fhouid  perifh 

Ev'ry  grace  that  Perfection  can  lend  to  nr.ankind. 
Hark!  Envy's  pack  opens;  the  grim  lurcher,   Fear, 
And    the  mongrel,  Vexation,  fkulks   fly  in  the  rear  : 
The  reft  all  ruHi  on,  at  their  head  the  whe'p  Sender, 

Ti'e  fell  mufl'fJ'Ma'.iee,  the  greyhound  Defpair! 
Vitv  beings  bell  known  by  bright     Truth    and  fair  Canrlour 

Should  hunt  down--fhame  to  manhood-*!o  harmlefs  a  hare. 
Their  fports  at  an  end,  harfli  Reflection's  bcgMi.'er 

Tu  fome  thought lefs  oblivion  their  fouls  they  relign  ; 
Tb°  feduccr  takes  pieafute,  revenge  the  revilcr, 

Tiie  hunter's  oblivion,  more  harmlefs,  u  wine. 


DIBDIN   S   SELECTED    SOXGS. 

Thus,  having  delroyed  every  rational]  y 
Tij.it  can  dignify  Re^fon,  they  Ileaibn  deflroy  : 
lAnd  vtt  not  in  vain,  ii   this  IcfT'on  infpirit 

Ought  of  rev'rence  for  Genius,  refpe^V.  fur  the  Fair 
n:  t'ar  of  loft  Virtue  am!  poor  ruined  Merit 

The  lad  manes  lliali  apptafe  of  the  innocent  hard 


BALLAD  -  IN    CASTLES    IN   THE   AIR. 


•THE  world's  a  good  thing,  ah  how  f\veet  and  delicious 

The  b'lfs  and  delight  it  contains ; 
Dcv'l  a  pleafure  hut  joy  Fortune  crams  in  onr  difhes, 

Except  a  few  torments  and  pains. 
Then  wine's  a  good  tiling,  the  dear  drink's  fo  inviting, 

Where  each  toper  each  care  fwcetly  drowns, 
Where  cur  friends  \\e  fo  cheriiL,  fo  love  and  delight  in, 

Except  when  we're  cracking  tneir  crowns. 
Sing  diddcroo  whack,  take  the  good  with  the  bad, 

So  put  round  the  claret  and  Aierry ; 
If  the  cnresof  this  world  did  not  make  us  fo  fad, 

' Twould  be  eafy  enough  to  be  merry. 

Fait  a  wife's  a  good  tin?,  fure  to  charm  and  content  yc, 

To  cherifh  and  love  you  flic's  born; 
Show'ring  joys  on  your  brow,   like  thegoddefs  of  plenty, 

So  fwecr,  juft  excepting  the  horn. 
Arrah  fait  the  dear  law  a  nice  good  ting  to  truftis, 

Juft  your  a1!  to  its  mercy  devote; 
You'll  be  fure  to  get  bed,  board,  and  cloathing  from  Juflice, 

Except  when  Ihe  llrips  off  your  coat. 
Sing  di<:dcroo,  &c, 

En't  a  place  a  good  ting  ?  wh.re  the  loaves  and  the  fifhes, 

So  neatlv  are  handed  about, 
Where  you  turn  while  your  in,  till  y6u  get  all  yourwifhes, 

Except  when  they're  turning  you  out. 
I?  not  fame  a  good  ting  ?  ah  her  trump  found  fo  glorious, 

And  fo  lings  lorth  the  deeds  of  the  brave  ! 
Kothing  hinders  their  living  long,  great,  and  notorious, 

EiC^pt  that  they're  fnug  in  the  grave  ! 
Sing  didderoo,  &c. 

Then  a  friend's  a  good  ting,  ah  he  footlies  all  your  furrow5' 
And  foftens  each  care  oi  jour  life, 


2.2O          DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

And  nothing,  kind  foul,  in  return  ever  borrows, 

Except  juit  your  purfe  or  your  wife. 
By  comparifons  then  fmce  each  good  ting's  a  treafure, 

As  the  foil  fhetfs  the  diamond's  true  glare, 
Let  us  in  this  life,  cheriUi  only  the  pleafure, 

Except  when  we're  tailing  the  care. 
Sing  didderoo,  &<:• 


BALLAD  -  IN   CASTLES   IN   THE   AIR, 


BE  quiet  that  blackbird  and  thrufh, 

S  >  gallanting, 

And  chanting, 

And  whiftiiiu1, 

And  bribing, 

Ami  warbling  your  fong  in  the  grove. 
That  goldfinch  and  linnet  pray  hufli; 

Poor  Taffy  is  fishing, 

Aad  alfo  is  crying. 

And  moreover  dying 
For  love. 

What  a  noife,  only  hark  ! 

Why  you  imprudent  lark  .' 
The  loud,  little  devils  to  hear 

Gives  her  torture,  and  torment,  and  fmart ; 
Uor  though  honey  their  notes  to  her  ear, 
They  are  hitter  as  gall  to- her  heart, 

Her  cannot  for  her  foui  be  glad 

When  Winifred's  away ; 

Yet  it  is  wrong,  and  it  is  bad 

To  chide  their  pretty  lay  ; 

That  love  that  makes  pour  TaiTy  fad, 

Makes  all  the  grove  fo  gay. 

Pipe  on,  merry  blackbird,  and  thrufli, 

S;ng  your  ditty, 

So  pretty, 

And  whiver  it, 

And  quiver  it, 

Nature  fmiles,  and  the  fpring's  in  its  prime: 
From  each  fpray,  and  each  tree,  and  each  bufh, 

Your  madrigals  pouring, 

Some  hopping 

Some  loariug, 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS.  221 

Your  fong  will  be  o'er  in 
Good  time. 

What  a  noife,  only  hark  ! 
Now's  your  time,  Mr,  Lark, 
When  to-morrow  fwfet  Win  (hall  appear, 
You'll  not  make  this  noife,  and  this  ftir, 
Then  a  much  fweeter  ditty  to  hear, 
You'll  leave  Tinging,  and  liften,  to  her. 
Then   Taffy  be  no  longer  fad, 
Though  Winifred's  away, 
Bat  fnile  with  nature,  and  be  glad, 
And  li'ce  the  grove  he  gay, 
Tc  -morrow  pleafurc's  to  be  had, 
Then  do  not  grieve  to-day. 


BzA.LLAD  —  IN  CASTLES  IN  THE  AIR. 


COME  away  then  at  my  call, 

High,  low,  rich,  pwor,  fat,  lean,  fhorr,  tail; 

I  undertake  to  furniih  all 

A  panacea  to  cure  care. 

Would  the  oid  renew  their  youth, 

Would  Falflu>od  'earn  to  cliar.n  like  Truth, 

Would  Honour  in  life's  game  be  winner, 

Or  moJfft  Mei't  :i;u!  a  d  nncr, 

To  Hope  fHll  turning  black  Dcfpair, 

Come  build  cuttles  in  the  air. 

Here  the  ck,  through  clouds  of  fmoke, 

In  cofFce-houfc  ^v;i.)  crack--  Lis  joke. 

Whom,  at  his  dcilc,  the  cobwebs  choke, 

StiM  imitates  the  fpidcr'i  -ire: 

Of  ton  the  very  life  and  foul, 

Near  iotne  Horkley  in  the  Hole, 

To  all  the  guttling  city  beads, 

Shall  give  fuch  monff'rous  Uimptaous  feafts, 

Genteel  a--  any  d  m-iiig  bear, 

In  his  caftle  built  of  air,     . 

"Would  fpendthrift's  ne'er  put  down  their  gig*, 
Would  reedy  curates  coiint  tithe  pi.'^i 
Would  Gout  dance  rigadqons  and  jigs, 
Would  Greeks  play  cnly  on  the  fquare, 

T   2 


222  DIBDIN  S   SELECTED    SONGS. 

Would  guilt  a  waking  colifcience  blind, 
Would  tabbies  handfome  hufbands  find, 
Would  lawyers  fight  poor  orphans'  battle?, 
Preferving  them  their  goods  and  chatties, 
Would  pigeons  fcape  a  well-laid  fnare, 
Conic  build  cafllcs  in  the  air. 

Would  country  hicks  become  polite, 
Would  Avarice  give,   would  Cowardice  fi^ht, 
Would  Envy  praife,  would  dunces  write, 
Would  Fraud  fair  Honour's  veftme'lts  wear, 
Would  miicrs  know  when  they'd  enough, 
Would  gluttons  root*  and  water  fluff, 
Would  gambling  ceafe  to  be  alarming, 
Worth  to  be  priz'J,  or  beauty  charming, 
Would  lovers  ceafe  to  lie  and  fwear. 
Come  build  caftles  in  the  air. 

In  fliort,  all  thofe  who  Nature  force, 
Who  put  Life's  cart  before  the  horfe, 
Turn  Times  and  Seafons  from  their  courfe, 
Build  hopes  by  Folly's  rule  and  fquare — 
For  inftance,  now,  did  I  appear, 
From  confcious  diffidence  or  fear, 
T'indulge  one  moment  fuch  a  (lander 
That  any  here  were  void  of  candour, 
My  hopes  ought  al!  to  be  defpair, 
Aud  all  my  caftles  built  in  air. 

BALLAD — 'IN    CASTLES    IN   TH*  AIR. 


LORD  what  be  all  the  rich  and  great, 

The  pride  of  courts  and  cities  ? 
Their  fufs,  and  rout,  and  pomp,  and  (late, 

Lord  how  a  body  pities. 
The  g'»uty  fquire,  in  cw.rh  and  .fix, 

My  lady  with  her  ph;hiiic, 
His  worfhip  with  the  rheumatics, 

All  fick  from  floth  and  phyiic. 
How  different  we  ploughmen  be, 

Through  bog,  and  briar,  and  thifHr, 
Vvh'i  work  with  health,  ar.d  (trcngth,  and  glee, 

And  o'er  the  furrow  -whittle. 


B1BDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS.     22J 

That  thing,  the  young  fquire,  my  landlord's  heir, 

You'd  for  a  doll  miflake  it  ; 
Set  en  a  fhelf,  like  China  ware, 

For  fear  the  maids  fhou'd  break  it  : 
Then  mif's  loves  fcandal,  cheats  at  play, 

Gets  tonifh,   bold,  and  fpunky, 
Hates  nafty  n.an,  then  runs   away, 

To  prove  it,  with  a  monkey. 
How  different  from  t\>t  fe  imps,  fa  fprucc, 

With  pride  that  fivcll  and  brittle, 
Are  ours,  formed  ploughmen  to  produce, 

Who  o'er  the  ft;rrow  whiflle. 
A   nabob,  drefs'd  in  ftars,  comes  down, 

To  our  village,  worth  a  million  ; 
His  villa's  here,  his  houfe  in  town, 

By  the  lea  fide  his  pavilion. 
Poor  man,  he'd  thank  his  fiars  to  feize, 

For  his,  my  humble  ttation  ; 
Why  he's  dying  of  a  new  difeafe, 

They  calls  a  complication. 
With  ficknefs  then  what's  high  degree  ? 

What  garter,  hath,  and  thiitle  ? 
Oh  that  the  nabob  could,  like  me, 

Blithe  o'er  the  furrow  whittle  ! 
Thus  honeft  Clump,  fevere,  though  kind, 

Did  wit  with  pity  leafon  ; 
Elelt  with  that  manly  flrtr.gth  of  r.-Ind, 

Taught  by  content  and  rcafon. 
In  artlefs  wit,  unronfcious  fcnfe, 

He  pitied  imperfection  ; 
Not  rancour,  but  beneficence, 

Infpiring  each  reflection. 
My  wifli  'k-ainfl  haughty  pomp,  cried  he, 

At  the  poor  who  puff  and  brittle, 
Is  —  May  they  tafre  fuel)  joys  as  we, 

Who  o'er  the  furrow  whittle  ! 


BALLAD  —  IN  CASTLES    IN   THE   AIR. 


THE  auctioneer  mounts,  and — firfl  hawing  and 
Addreffes  his  audience  with — Lathes  and  gemmen, 
Permit  me  to  make  on  this  i'ale  a  few  Arufturei 
'Tjs  comj'riied  of  fume  choice  allegorical  piclures. 


224  DIBDIN  S    SELECTED   SONGS. 

Lot  one  is  a  portrait  of  Truth  : — bid  away  ! 

For  Trutk,  la'es  and  gentlemen,  what  {hall  we  fay  ? 

Suppofc  we  fay  twenty  thoufatid  pounds  for  Truth  :  tea 
thoufand  :  five  :  one  :  five  hundred  :  one  hundred  :  twenty 
guineas  :  one  guinea.  Nobody  put  in  Truth  ?  No  lover 
aor  lawyer  in  company  (lands  in  need  of  a  little  truth  ? 
Any  thing  to  begin  with.  '  Sixpence  !'  "  And  a  half-pen 
ny  !  !"  Thank  you  Sir. 

A  going,  a  going,  a  going — come,  fpirit,  bid  on  ; 
Will  nobody  bid  more?  A  going — gone. 

Set  down  Truth  to  the  gentleman  in  the  ragged  caflbc 

Lot  two  is  Frugality,  modeft  and  meek, 

Mild  Content  in  her  eye,  the  freih  rofe  on  her -cheek, 

The  offspring  of  Prudence,  the  parent  of  Health, 

Who,  in  Nature's  fcant  wiflies,  finds  Cra.fus's  wealth. 

What  d'ye  fay  for  Frugality,  ladies  ?  O  fie  ! 

What  nebody  bid  !  Nobody!  ! — John,  put  Frugality  by. 

*  Lot  three  :    Diffipatir.n .     That's  engaged:   I  could   have 
fold  them  if  I  had  had  a  thoufand       Lot    four  :   Crim   Cun, 
Oh  Lord  that  is  difpofcd  of,  by  private  rontracl.     Lot   five, 
Fafhion.      Come,   ladies,  whit    lhall    vc  fay   for  Fafliion  ? 

*  Twenty  thoufand  pounds.'— Thank  you  Ma'am.  "  Twenty- 
five." — '  Thirty.' — 

A  going,  a  j^ing,  a  going — come,  Ipirit,  bid  on —  - 
What  nobody  bid  more  ? 

'  Mr.  Smilcr,  to  fave  trouble,  you  may  fend  Fafliion  to 
'  my  houfe  upon  your  own  terms."  Much  obliged  to  your 
LadyiLip. 

— Going— gone. 

Set  down  Fafliion  to  Lady  Kitty  Cockahoop. 
Kcxt  lot  is  the  Cardinal  Virtues  : — why  John 
Some  Prance  nictainorphofe  they've  all  undergone  : 
Whv  Fortitude  trembles   and  looks  like  a  Ilieep  ! 
T/hi'e  Tcmp'rance  is  tipfy  !    :  nd  Juftire  afieep! 
And  as  for  Ma'am  Prudence,  HieV  quite  in  her  airs  ! 
Herr,  Johr,  ":-:ck  the  Cardinal  Virtues  down  flairs. 

Let  me  fee,  what  have  v  c  elic  ?  Confidence.  Oh  Lord  ! 
Honour.  \V.>r>V  .-.nd  wo'Td  A  parcel  of  antiqu-m-d  fluff. 
What's  this?  Anarchy!!  Why  John  whai  buf'mis  has 
AnaThy  her.'  ?  1  thought  you  knew  that  it  was  fold,  long 
enough7 ago,  for  exportation. — And  now  you  talk  of  ex- 
portatlon,  you  know  this  portrait  of  Popularity  is  to  befent, 
a«  a  public  gift  to  the  Royal  K;-'  there,,  upon  the  continent. 
Loyalty.  *  A  hundred  thoufand  pounds — two  hundred 


BIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         225 

*   thoufancl — three — four — five — fix — fevtn — eight — a    mil- 

'  lion — two  million — thrte  million — 

A  going,  agoing,  a  goi;ig — come,  courage,  bid  on: 

A  going,  a  going 

Ten  million  in  five  hundred  places  !     Oh   I  knew  it    wa» 
utterly  impoflibleever  to  find  ajing.'e  purchafer  for  Loyalty. 

Going,  gone. 

Set  down  Loyalty  to  the  whole  nation, 
What  remains  there  is  little  occaiion  to  heed  ; 
Of  Honour  and  Worth  you  have  none  of  you  need; 
Good  Humour,  and  Frolic,  and  Laughter,  fo  plump, 
I've  fold  you  ag'iin  and  again,  in  a  lump. 
The  lad  lot's  Content,  of  fweet  Fleafure  the  twin, 
Come  purchafe  Content,  and  I'll  throw  Pleafure  in. 

Come,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  what  fhal!  we  fyy  for  Con 
tent  ?  It  ia  your  intereft  to  buy  Content.  What  beauty  can 
fmile,  what  alderman  guttle,  without  Content  ?  I  had  once 
an  idea  of  buying  it  in,  but  my  content  receives  all  its  va 
lue  from  the  reflection  of  yours.  Come,  I'll  take  nods  and 
fnniles  for  money.  Much  obliged  to  you,  Sir  : — particularly 
favoured,  Ma'am  : — highly  honoured,  Sir: — you  flatter  me 
exceedingly,  Mifs  ? 
A  going,  a  going,  a  going — come,  courage,  bid  on  : 

A  going,  a  going 

Infinitely  above  the  full  value  !  I  am  overwhelmed  witk 
gratitude! 

A  going — gone. 

Set  down  content  to  the  prcfent  company. 

BALLAD IN   CASTLES   IN   THE  AIR. 


WHEN  to  man  the  diftinguifhing  form 
.And  the  nature  of  angels  were  given, 

His  mind  was  imbu'd  with  a  charm 
That  mark'd  him  the  fav'rite  of  hcav'n. 

"Twas  fir.iling  Benignity's  grace, 
To  the  warm  throbbing  hofom  (;>  clear, 

That  ceklTially  beani'd  in  his  face, 
As  he  flied  $enfibility's  tear. 

Ye  who  Nature  have  learnt  to  fubdue, 
Who  your  hearts  'gainfl  companion  can  (let', 
Who  know  not  the  joys  oi  chfi  few  , 


£26        BIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Who  arc  happy  becnufe  they  can  feel, 

In  luxury  and  eafe  as  ye  ro'l, 
Learn  that  hlifs  to  the  b'oforft  fo  dear, 

"Tis  the  luxury,  fupreme,  of  the  foul, 
To  induce  Senhbility's  tear. 


BALLAD  —  IN  CASTLES  IN  THE  AIR. 


THE  village  xvas  jovial,  the  month  was  May, 

The  birds  were  fweetly  fniging  ; 
Of  Numps  and  Madge  'twas  the  wedding  day, 

The  bells  were  merrily  ringiag. 
The  bridegroom  came  in  hi*  holiday  cloaihs. 
The  bride  with  ribbands  as  red  as  a  rofe; 
Never  did  revelry  fo  abound, 
The  drums  beat,  and  the  joke  went  round  : 
Ai    m;n;ier  of  inftrumcnts  loudly  play'd, 
Tht  hiutboy  fqucak'd,  and  ihc  baffoon  hray'd. 
Then  to  fee  th'.-m  all  foot  it,  and  jig  it,  and  prance, 
Stump,  figif,and  rce',  in  the  mazy  dance; 
Thus,  from  when  the   lark  rofe  till  the  flocking  was 

thrown, 

The  fun,  and  the  frifk,  and  nadiire  v.-ent  on. 
Such  whim  and  fuch  frolic  fure  never  was  feen, 

Till  wond'ring  fo  long  they  had  tarried, 
Young  Ralph  of  the  village  and  Sue  of  the  green, 

Cry — what  a  lare  thing  to  be  married  ! 
Now  fcarcely  paft  the  honey  moon 

Still  Numps  and  Madge  are  !ingii:£, 
But  not  exadtiy  the  fame  tune, 

For  the  belis  her  clapper's  ringing. 
The  Squire  fteps  in,  Numps  fuel  Is  a  rat, 
Love  and  d.'ar ,  are  changed  to  dog  and  cat ; 
Their  loves  turn'd  hate,  and  grief  their  joys, 
Contentment's  ftrife,  and  plcafure  noife  : 
Say  A  crooked  word,  and  I'll  kill  you,  cries  he! 
Rams  h»rns,  if  I  die  for't,  cries  out  fhe ! 
Night  and  ciay  thus,  at  visuals,  or  up,  or  abed, 
He  curries  her  hide,  and  fhe  combs  his  head, 
In  torment,  vexation,  and  mifery  they  dwell, 
Converting  that  heaven,  called  marriage,  to  hclh 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       227 

The  neighbours  malicioufly  viewing  the  fcene, 

While  charmed  that  fo  long  they  had  tarried, 
Young  Ralph  of  the  VfHage,  and  Sue  of  the  greeB, 

Cry  —  whai  a  queer  thing  to  be  married  ! 
At  length  i  •>  make  fport  of  the  bridegroom  and  bride} 

Whofe  jars  in  droll  ditty  they're  fiaging, 
The  wags  of  the  village  now  fkimmington  ridCj 

While  backward  the  bells  they  are  ringing. 
The  ladles,  the  fkimmers,  the  broom  ft!  cks  they  wield, 
The  porringer  helmet,  the  potlid  fhicld, 
The  ample  ram's  horns  that  fo  grace  the  parade, 
And  the  petticoat  rampant  fo  gaily  difplayed, 
Denote  jars  domefHc,  and  family  ftrife, 
Where  the  dolt  takes  the  diftaff,  the  cudgel  the  wife. 
Thus  hilling,  and  hooting,  and  grunting  of  hogs, 
And  fqualling  of  children,  and  barking  of  dogs, 
And  fhrill  penny  trumpets,  fait  boxes,  and  bells, 
And  drums  and  cow  horns,  and  a  hundred  things  elfe, 
Compofe  of  confufinns  the  drol  left  e'er  feen, 

While  charm'd  that  fo  long  they  had  tarried, 
Young  Ralph  of  the  village,  and  Sue  of  the  green, 

Cry  —  what  a  damn'd  thing  to  be  married. 


BALLAD  —  IN   CASTLES  IN   THE  AIR. 


TOM  Tackle  -was  noble,  was  true  to  his  word, 

If  merit  bought  titles,  Tom  might  be  my  lord  ; 

How  gaily  his  bark  through  Life's  ocean  wou'd  fail, 

Truth  furntfhed  the  rigging    and  Honour  the  gale. 

Yet  Tom  had  a  failing,  if  ever  man  had  ; 

That  good  as  he  was,  made-  him  all  that  was  bad, 

He  was  paltry  and  pitiful,  fcurvy  and  mean, 

Aad  tli  •  fniviingeft  fcoanirei  that  ever  WAS  fren  : 

For  fo  fi-.id  the  y.irl.-,  and  the  landlords  long  fnore, 

Would   you  know  what  this  fault  was — Tom  Tackle  wa« 

poor  ! 

'Twas  once  on  a  time  when  we  took  a  galloon, 
Ai.d  the  crew  touched  the  a  PC- it  for  calh  to  fon-.e  tuue, 
Tom  ?.  trip  took  to  jail,  an  old  meflmate  to  free, 
And  four  thankful  prat'icis  foon  fat  on  his  knee. 
Tlun  T  -n  wws  an  angH,  down  rijjht  from  heaven  fent! 
Wlyj^e  they'd  hands  he  his  goodiief*  iliould  never  repent : 


228        DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Rcturn'd  from  next  voyage,  he  bemoan'cl  his  fad  cafe, 

To  find  his  dear  friend  fhut  the  door  in  his  face  ! 

Why  d'ye  wonder,  cried  one(  you're  ferved  right  to  he 

fure, 

Once  Tom  Tackle  was  rich  —  nsw  —  Tom  Tackle  is  poor  ? 
I  bcn't  you  fee  verfed  in  high  maxims  and  fitch, 
But  don't  this  fame  honour  concern  poor  and  rich  ? 
If  it  don't  come  from  good  hearts,  I  can't  fee  where  from, 
And  dam'me  if  e'er  tar  had  a  good  heart  'twas  Tom. 
Yet,  fome  how  or  nother,  Tom  never  did  right  : 
None  knew  better  the  time  when  to  fpare,  or  to  fight  ; 
He,  by  finding  a  leak,  once  preferved  crew  and  fliip,- 
Saved    the    Commodore's  life  —  then  he  made  fuchrare  flip  ' 
And  yet,  for  a'l  this,  no  one  Tarn  could  endure  ; 
I  fancy's  as  how  'twas  —  becaufc  he  was  poor. 
At  laft  an  old  fhipmate,  that  Tom  might  hail  land, 
Who  faw  that  his  heart  failed  too  fafV  for  his  hand, 
In  the  riding  of  Comfort  a  mooring  to  find, 
Reef'd  the  fails  of  Tom  s  fortune  that  /hook  in  the  wind  : 
He  gave  him  enough  through  life's  ocean  to  fleer, 
Be  the  breeze  what  it  might,  ftea'dy,  tha»,  or  no  near  ; 
His  p'ttance  is  daily,  a«u  yet  Tom  imparts 
Wh.it  he  can  to  his  friends  —  and  ;nay.all  honeft  hearts, 
Like  Tom  Tackle  have  what  keeps  the  wolf  from  the  doer, 
Juit  enough  to  be  generous  —  too  much  to  be  poor. 


BALLAD  —  IN  CASTLES  IN  THE  AIR. 


SAYS  my  father,  fays  he,  one  day  to  ], 

Thou  know'ft  by  faifc  friends  we  are  undone, 
Should  my  lawfuit'be  in  ft,  then  thy  good  fortune  try, 

Among  our  relations  in  London  : 
Here  s  Sukey,  the  poor  orphan  child  of  fiiend  Grift, 

Who  once  kept  thy  father  from  fhirving, 
When  thy  fortune  thou'ft  made,  thou  ilialt  take  by  the  lift. 

For  a  wife,  for  fhe's  good  and  deserving  : 
Bu:  mind  flue  in  heart  this  one  maxim,  our  Jack, 

As  thou'it  read  thy  good  fate  in  a  book, 
Make  honour  thy  guide,  or  elie  never  come  back 

To  Father,   ana  Mother,  juid  Suke. 
Jo  I  bufs'd  Suke  and  mothe',  and  great  y  donccrn'd, 

Off  I  fct,  with  my  father'*  kind  bleffing, 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS.  2* 

To  our  coufin,  the  wine  merchant,  where  I  foon  Icarn'd 

About  mixing,  and  brewing,  and  prefling  : 
But  the  ilo.' -juice,  and  ratfbane,  and  all  that  fine  joke, 

Was  foon  in  my  ftomach  a  rifin<);, 
Why  doin  it,  cii^d  I,  would  you  kt  I  the  poor  folk  ? 

I  thought  you  fold  wine,  and  not  poifon  : 
Your  place,  my  dear  coulin,  won't  do,  for  you  lack, 

To  uaake  your  broth,  another  Duel's  cook ; 
Befide?,  without  honour,  I  cannot  go  back 

To  Father,  and  Mother,  and  Suke. 
To  rny  ur.cle,  the  dodlor,  I  next  went  my  ways, 

He  teach'd  me  the  myftery,  quickly, 
Of  thofe  that  were  dying  to  fliortcn  the  days, 

And  they  in  good  health  to  make  lickly. 
Oh  the  mulic  of  groans  !  cried  my  uncle  dear  boy^ 

Vapours  let  all  my  fpirits  a  flowing, 
A  fit  of  the  gout  makes  me  dancing  for  j  >y, 

At  an  ague  I'm  all  in  a  glowing ! 
Why  then  my  dear  uncle,  cries  1,  you're  a  quack, 

For  another  affiftant  go  look, 
For  you  fee  without  honour  I  nnir.na  go  back 

To  Father,  and  Mother,  and  Sukc. 

From  my  coufin.  the  parfon,  1  foon  com'd  away, 

Without  either  waiting  or  warning, 
For  he  preach  d  upon  fuberr.cfs  three  times  one  day. 

And  then  con.'d  home  drunk  the  next  moming. 
My  relation,  the  author,  ftole  other  folks'  thoughts, 

My  coufin,  the  bookfcller,  fold  them, 
My  pious  oli  aunt  found  in  innocence  faults, 

And  made  Virtue  blufh  as  fhe  told  ;hei'.<  ! 
So  tlit  profpect  around  me  quite  difmal,  and  b'ack, 

Scarcely  knowing  on  which  fide  to  look, 
I  juft  fav  d  my  honour,  and  then  1  com'd  back, 

To  Father,  and  Mother,  and  Suke, 
I  found  them  as  great  as  a  king  on  his  throne, 

The  law  iuit  had  banifhcd  all  forrow  : 
I'm  come  faid  I  father  my  honour's  my  own, 

Then  thou  flialt  have  Sukcy  to-morrow. 
But  how  about  London  ?  It  won't  do  for  a  clown, 

There  Vice  rides  with  folly  behind  it, 
Not,  you  fee,  that  I  fays  there's  no  honour  in  tows, 

i  only  fay*  I  coul.l  not  (ind  it. 
If  you  fent  me  to  flarve,  you  found  out  the  right  track- 

If  to  live,  the  v/rong  method  you  took, 

Tf 


230  DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

For,  I  poor  went  to  Lor.dom,  and  poor  I'm  ccm'ci  back, 
To  Father,  and  Mother,  and  Suke. 


RONDEAU  —  IN  CASTLES  IN  THE  AIR. 


AS  dulcet  found  on  aether  floats, 

In  foft,  melodious  mtafure, 
Smoothly  glide  the  even  notes 

That  lull  the  foul  to  pleafure. 
Plung'd  in  Care,bcfet  with  Pain, 
Hunted  by  Mifery's  fell  train, 

Still  with  each  v.rying  paffion  Sound  /hall  following  g», 
Through  all  the  wide  vicifEtudcs  of  Joy  and  Woe. 

Shall  laugh  with  Mirth,  with  Anger  dare; 

Shall  fhriek  with  Fear; 
With  Caution  creep; 
With  pitying  Sympathy  fhall  weep; 
Intrude  where  Melancholy  penfive  fits, 
Hock  Jealoufy,  that  loves  and  hales  by  fits, 

And  into  Madnefs  urge  defpair  ! 
Then,  while  the  extremes  of  Joy  "fld  Mife.-y 
Clafh  madly,  like  an  agitated  i'ea, 
O'er  the  footh'd  fcnfes  fhall  flic  ilied  a  balm, 
The  ftorm  of  Faffion  lulling  to  a  caln, 
Ker  mighty  magic  mark  ! 
J-Iark! 

As  dulcet  found  on  sther  float,  S^c, 
Vrlven  Mu  fit's  powerful  air.'.rms  excite, 
The  poorcft  pailion  grows  dclip'u  : 
Wine  is  not  mirth,  the  lyre  unftruug, 
Beauty's  not  beauty,  if  unfung. 
Mark  !  how  the  organ's  folemn  air 
Adds  piety  to  prayer  ! 

Without  the  aid  of  willing  found, 
Joy  is  not  pleafure,  pomp  not  flate, 
Love  tender,  nor  ambition  great  : 

Without  it  what  were  heroes  found, 
Who  feck  for  glory,  and  meet  fate  ? 
What  confecrates  thtir  deeds  and  namr 
But  Mufic's  trumpet,  lent  to  Fame.? 
Nor  will  the  mcancll  hero  fight, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          231 

If  Mufic  'end  not  her  de'ight. 

Let  hut  the  drum,  and  cheerful  fife 
AfTail  his  tar, 
He  knows  not  fear, 

The  found  infpirts  him  with  new  life,, 
Fired  with  the  fprightly  martial  band, 
The  foe  he  charges  hand  to  hand  : 
Rufhes  refifllef*  through  the  ranks, 

With  Glory  fir'd  ! 
And  takes  thofe  thanks 

Due  to  that  valour  Mafic  had  in  fpired. 
Siveet  Mufic  take  me  to  thy  care, 
Breathe  in  my  foul  thy  vital  air; 
That  when  unruly  thoughts  transform 
My  mind,  with  Pafiion's  fwclling  (torra, 
Confliiffc  on  conflict  as  they  fwell, 
And  make  my  tortur'd  mind  a  lull  ! 

As  dulcet  found  on  xthcr  floats,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN  CASTLES  IN  THE  AIR. 


A  Watchman  I  am,  and  I  knows  all  the  round, 

The  houfkecpers,  the  flrays,  and  the  lodgers, 
Where  low  dev'ls,  rich  dons,  and  high  rips,  may  be  found, 

Odd  dickies,  queer  kids,«and  rum  codgers: 
Of  money,  and  of  property,  I'm  he  that  takes  the  care, 
And  cries,  when  1  fee  rogues  go  by,  Hey  !  what  are  you 

doing  there  ? 

'  Only  a.  little  Imfinefs  in  that  houfe  : — You  undtrfland 
*  me  ?'  '*  Underftaad  you  ! — well,  I  believe  you  are  an 
'•  honcfl  man.  Do  you  hear,  bring  me  an  odd  imcr  caiidle- 
"  ftick  — 

Then  to  my  box  I  creep, 
And  then  fall  faft  aflcep. 
Saint  Paul's  llrikes  one, 
Thus  after  all  the  mifchief's  done, 
1  goes  and  gives  them  warning, 
And  loudly  bawls, 
As  ftrikcs  Saint  Paul's 
I'afl  one  o'clock,  and  a  cloudy  morning. 
Then  round  as  the  hour  I  merrily  cries, 
Another  fine  mefs  I  difcover, 


RIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

J"or  a  curious  rope  ladder  I  (trai^htway  efpics, 

And  Mifs  Forward  ixpeiEling  her  lover. 
Tlicn  to  each  other's  aims  they  fly, 

My  life,  my  foul,  ah  ah  ! 
Fine  work,  JVlifs.  Hot-npon't,  cries  I, 

I'll  knock  up  your  Pappa. 

'  No,  no,  you  won't.'     ••  I  fhall ;  worthy  old    foul,   to  be 
"  treated  in  th's  manner."     '  Here,  here,  take  this.'       "  Oh 
"  you  vil'ain,    want   to    bribe    an    honcft  watchman  !—  and 
"  with  futh    a   triilc   too  i"       '  Well,    well,    here  ii   more.' 
«'  More!  You  feein  to  he  a  fpirited  lad — now   do  make  her 
"  a  good    hu&and — 1  am  glad   you  tricked  the  o!d  hunks — 
"  good  night — I  «-ifh  you  fate  at  Gretna  Green  !— 
Then  to  my  box  I  creep, 
And  then  fall  fait  afleep.' 
What's  that  ?  St.  Paul's  ftrike  two, 
The  lovers  off,  what  doe*  I  do, 
But  gives  r'u  father  warning, 

And  loudly  bawls,  &c 
Then  towards  the  f<;nare,  from  my  box  as  I  look?, 

I  hears  fuch  a  ranting,  and  tearing; 
'Tis  Pharoah's  whole  hurt,  and  the  pigeons,  and  rooks, 

Are  lau^hiny,  and  finding,  and  fwtaring. 
Then  fuch  a  hubbub,  and  a  din, 

How  they  blafpheme,  and  curfe  ! 
Tli.it  thief  has  dole  my  diamond  pin, 

Watch,  watch,  I've  loft  my  purfe! 

*  Watoh,  htre  1  charge  }'ou,'  '  and  I  charges  yon.'  Cc  'Tit 
"  a  marvellous  thing  that  honed  people  can't  go  home  with- 
"  out  being  robbed:  Which  is  the  thief?"  'That's  the 

•  thief  that  trick'd    me   out    of   two   hundred    pounds    this 

*  evening,'  "  Ah  that  you  know  is  all   in    the  way  of  bufi- 
"  nefs,   but    which  is  the  thief  that  dole   the  gentleman's 
"purfe?"     '  That's  him.'     <•  What  Sam  Snatch?     Give  it 
*'  to  rne  Sam.     He  has  not  got  your   purfe — you  are   mif- 
"  taken  in    your    man.       Go   home  peaceably,    and    don't 
"  ohiige  me  to  take  you  to  the  watch-houfe. — 

Then  to  my  box  I  creep, 
And  then  fall  fad  afleep 
What's  that  ?  St.  Paul's  ftrikcs  three — 
Thus  from  all  roguery  I  geto  free, 
l2y  giving  people  warning, 
\nd  lomlh  bawls,  &e. 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED     SONGS.  233 

..<>»•..«>•••  €&<a^<55>  ••  v-O" 
BALLAD IN   THE  RAZOR  GRINDER. 


TOM  Turnwell  is  my  name,  my  boys, 

I'll  flrike  a  droke  with  any, 
The  trade  that  all  my  time  employs, 

To  get  an  honed  penny, 
As  good,  as  juft,  as  mod  you'll  find. 

With  rubbing  done, 

And  drop,  and  hone, 
I  whet  the  very  (harped  fteel  ; 
And  cry  the  while  I  turn  my  wheel, 

Pen-knives,  fciliars, 

Cleavers,   Razors, 
Chopping  knives  to  grind. 

I'm  ufeful  'liro':t>;-iout  a!!  the  town, 

The  An  K)th  am'  p  in'.percJ.  g'utton, 
When  e'&r  to  dinner  he  fits  down, 

Can  never  carve  his  mutton, 
TJnlefs  his  k.i.'fc  is  to  his  mind. 

With  rubbin^  done,  &c. 
The  pretty  dame  who  fVeet  can  fmile, 

Who  is  for  ever  fmirking, 
And  who  the  minutes  can  beguile, 

With  4ove  as  well  as  work!  :g, 
Would    lie  her  fcifTars  fharpeued  find, 

With  rubbing  done,  &c. 
My  frierd  the  barber  o'er  the  way, 

Who  daily  lathers  many, 
And  picks  up  pt'jtty  well  each  day, 

By  {having  for  a  penny; 
To  me  his  razors  are  contign'd, 
With  rubbing  done,  &c. 


AIR  —  IN  THE  SHEPHERD'S  ARTIFICE 


ALL  endeavours  fruitlefs  prove 
Former  pleafure  to  regain, 

S.;nk  in  helplefs,  hopelei's  love — 
Can  the  /lave  efcapc  his  chain  ? 

U  2 


234         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Leave,  O  leave  me  to  endure, 
Probe  not  wounds  that  rend  my  heart  ; 

When  the  patient's  part  a  cure, 
Mcd'eine  but  augments  his  fmart. 


AIR  —  IN  THE  SHEPHERD'S  ARTIFICE. 


THE  trifling  maid,  who,  idly  vain, 
Contemns  a  faithful  level's  pain, 

His  torment  all  her  joy; 
Who,  changeful  as  an  April  day, 
With  captive  hearts  delight  to  play, 
As  infants  with  a  toy  : 
Deferves  of  Cupid  s  bi  ter  draught, 
To  tafte  a  drop,  and  from  hit  ihaft 

A  (broke  or  two  to  feel ; 
Then  tremble,  Nymph,  for,  taught  by  me, 
Strephon  fhall  foon  give  wounds  to  thee, 

No  vanity  can  heal. 


AIR — IN  THE  SHEPHERD'S  ARTIFICE. 


MY  bofom  is  proof  againft  tranfports  and 

The  fawning  of  treacherous  man, 
Who  by  artful  grimaces,  by  cringing  and  bows, 

Enfnares  ev'ry  woman  he  can. 
His  tranfport  is  falfe,  and  his  vows  are  a  cheat, 

His  oaths  and  his  cringing  a  lie, 
Each  pravStic'd  alone  their  defires  to  compleat, 

And  gain  what  we  ought  to  deny- 
Poor  Daphne  too  foon  own'd  the  flame  in  her  breaff, 

Too  tafy,  too  quick'y  was  won  ; 
Her  fwain.  from  that  moment  a  rover  confefs'd, 

Forfook  htr,  a  maiden  undone: 
And  knew,  if  young  Stir phon  had  conqucr'd  my  heart, 

To  my  wifh  were  .none  p'eafir.g  as>  he, 
Ifooner  would  die,  than  this  f'ecret  impart, 

'Till  I  prov'd  he  as  truly  lov'd  me. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         235 


AIR — IN  THE  SHEPHERD'S  ARTIFICE. 

YE  flowers  that  bloom  in  yonder  mead, 

Where  flows  the  cryftal  tide, 
And  nibling  lambkins  fportive  feed 

Along  the  current's  fide, 
Ye  oft  have  feen,  and  fmil'd  to  fee, 
My  love  to  him,  his  love  to  me. 
Witnefs  ye  flocks,  ye  herds,  ye  fawns, 

That  o'er  the  pafturcs  ftray, 
Witnefs,  ye  mountain*,  groves,  and  lawns, 

Each  pointed  child  of  May  : 
The  gn-ate(H>  if,  I  ere  can  prove 
Is  to  return  my  fhepherd's  love. 


DUETTO — IN  THE  SHEPHERD'S  ARTIFICE, 


Strrpbon. 

TURN,  O  turn,-  relentlefs  fair,. 
Pity  hap'efs   Strcphon's  pain, 
Raife  Jura  irom  the  Lift  defpair, 
Smile,  and  bid  him  live  again. 
Cxlia. 

Prythee  lay  afide  your  folly  ; 

How  can   I  or  take  or  give 
Sprightly  mirth,  or  melancholy; 

But  if  thut  contents  you — live. 

Sirepbon,    . 
Too  well  you  know  your  art  and  pow'r, 

Ev'ry  \vay  my  woes  te  calm, 
The  wound  will  heal  from  that  fweet:  hour 

Wherein  you  pour  a  friendly  balm, 

Ccclia. 
Truth   1  pity  your  condition, 

But  if  your  poor  heart  muft  bleed 
Till  I  act  your  kind  phyfician — • 

Your  cafe  is  dcfperatc  indeed. 


236         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

~O~"<v~<Sg><s>'S&  ••<>••  •"{>•• 

AIR — IN  THE  SHEPHERD'S  ARTIFICE. 


IN  ev'ry  fertile  valley 

Where  nature  fpreads  the  grafs, 
Her  filly  conducl  rally 

To  ev'ry  lad  and  lafs; 
Where  weary  reapers  labour, 
With  Sylvia  gay,  he  feen, 
Or,  to  the  pipe  and  tabor, 

Light  tripping  o'er  the  green. 
Where  cowflips  fweetly  fmiling, 

Bedeck  the  verdant  fliade, 
Appear  the  hours  beguiling, 

Or  head  fome  gay  parade. 
Purfue  thefe  methods  boldly, 

Nor  fink  in  hopelefs  grief; 
The  fair  once  treated  coldly, 

Will  quickly  grant  relief. 

AIR — IN  THE  SHEPHERD'S  ARTIFICE. 


HAUGHTY  Calia,  (till  difdaining, 

Ne'er  flial!  triumph  o'er  my  heart; 
Ne'er  will    I  with   mean   complaining 

Sue  for  comfort  to  my  fmart ; 
I'll  appear  the  carelefs  rover, 

Let  her  coquettilTi  airs  affect, 
Like  a  gay  a  happy  lover, 

Treat  contempt  with  cold  neglect. 

Kt'er,  ye  fair  ones,  damp  the  palTum 

Where  with  honour  love  attends, 
Never  cro-fs  with  indignation 

Love  that  iaireft  trvuh  commends. 
Conftant  minds  alike  difdaining 

Infmccrity  ^rd  fraud, 
Are  their  utmoft  wiih  obtaining) 

Y/LLe  their  hope  their  hearts  applauri. 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 
AIR — IN  THE  SHEPHERD'S  ARTIFICE. 


SINCE  artful  man  fo  oft  betrays, 
Hy   fubtle   wiles,  and   hardy  ways, 


Our  weak  unguarded  lex  ; 
By  oaths,    dilfembl'd  ligh's  aiul  fi-ars, 
To  melt  the  heart,  to  unarm  cur  tars, 

And  (till  our  minds  perp'ex  : 

In  revenge  I'm  determiu'd  to  treat  him  with  (corn, 
And  fhew  him  a  nymph  can  perplex  in  her  turn« 
But  Strephon's  heart  with  pureft  fire, 
With  landed  love,  and  fond  defire, 

Has  ever  warmly  glow'd: 
Yet  his  may  be  like  all  the  red, 
A  treach'rous  bait  to  fnare  the  brcafl, 

And  (b  my  fears  forbade  : 

Thofe  fears  then  iliall  teach  me  to  treat  him  with  fcorm 
And  flicw  him  a  nymph  can  infnare  in  her  turn. 


AIR  —  IN  THE  SHEPHERD'S  ARTIFICE. 


THE  God  of  love  will  ever 

Heap  blefling's  on  the  pair, 
Where  plea  Hag' I  the  endeavour, 

Both  of  the  fwain  and  f^ir. 
Believe  me   kind  good-nature, 

Of  beauty  flands  in  place, 
Gives  bloom  to  ev'ry  feature, 

To  ev'ry  adtion  grace  : 
Then  never  flight  the  lover, 

Or  draw  too  tight  his  chain, 
Leaft  in  the  end  the  rover 

Succeeds  the  dying  fwain. 


AIR — IN  THE  SHEPHERD'S  ARTIFICE. 

A  SHEPHERD  long  figh'd  for  a  beautiful  fair  , 
And  in  rapture  difcover'd  his  love ; 


238         DJBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Not  doubting  the  nymph  would  clifye   !,,.-,  .   .;J  care 

And  his  amorous  tranfport  appiove  : 
Tho'  fhe   to  companion   inienl-Ulc  grov.-n, 

No  gl'mpie  of  delight  would  isnoart  ; 
When  ht  f'.gn'd  ar  hc-r  Icet  (he  ic-piy'd  with  a  frown, 

Anu  rtjoic'd  at  his  1'urFrings  aud  fniart. 
He  fufFer'd   long  time  this  impertinent  Horn, 

Nor  thought  of   upbraiding  the  fair, 
But  fecretly  pin'd  in  the  bower  forlorn, 

Involv'd  in  the  keeneft  defpair  ; 
'Till  his  friend  who  obferv'd  him  heart-wounded  with  grief. 

Lamenting  his  fruitlefs  dtfire, 
Refolv'd  that  the  nymph  fhould  afford  him  relief, 

And  in  turn  feel  the  force  of  love's  fire. 
Too  artful,  her  pafiion  fhe  never  had  own'd, 

Tho'  it  triumph'd  alone  in  her  brcaft ; 
But  laugh 'd  while  the  fhepherd  in  mifery  nioan'd, 

And  wander'd  a  ftranger  to  reft  : 
Advis'd  then  his  bofom  no  longer  to  vex  : 

But  her  haughtinefs  treat  with  'lifdain  ; 
He  OM'n'd  a  feign'd  coiutfhip,  her  brs^.ft  to  perplex, 

And  convert  to  delight  all  his  pain. 

AIR IN   THE  CESTUS. 


THE  Phcenix,  we're  told,  has  the  Sun  for  his  fire, 

That  he  lives  to  five  cent'ries  or  more; 
That  he  then  gathers  gums  and  rccds  in  good  flore, 

With  thefe  makes  a  tire  ; 
In  the  midft  of  which  fire  being  feated. 

His  wings  are  the  bellows 
Which  kindle  it  up  till  'tis  properly  heated  ; 

And  farther  they  tell  us, 

When  no  longer  in  flame  this  corabuftible  flafhes, 
A  fpick  and  fpan  aew  one  jumps  out  of  the  afhe». 
Another  wife  tale  to  a  dragon  gave  birth, 
Whole  teeth,  it  is  faid,  were  but  fown  in  the  earth, 
When  'tis  gravely  attefted,  and  let  who  will  fmile. 
That  a  re»iment  of  foldiers  appear'd  rank  and  file. 
Thefe  florics,    'tis  granted,  are  vary  abfurd  ; 
No  man  ever  fa  w  fuch  a  dragon  er  bird 


IMBUING    SELECTED    SONGS. 

Yc-t  folly  ;>:;cl  love  to  be  met  with  afunder, 

I  hoU  a  phenomenon  of  fuch  a  kind, 

A.  rarity  fo  much  more   worhjy  to  brag  on, 

That  fo-'ncr  thai)  fct  out  thi*  wonder 

To  find  — 

I'd  be  bound  to  produce  you  both  phoenix  and  dragon. 


AIR  -  IN    THE    CESTUS. 


I'M  'up  to  all  your  tricks,  my  clear, 

ilow  the  winds  you  make  your  letters  bear, 

lly  care  and  vigilence  to  queer, 

But  little  are  you  winning  : 
You  know  tis  true  my  pretty  youth, 
You  fend  'em  Eaft,  Weft,  .North,  and  South 
Don't  laugh — left  t'other  fide  your  mouth. 

You  fhould  be  after  grinning. 
You  Matter  !  don'-t  believe  if,  love  ; 
I'm  Juno  fliil,  and  you  are  Jove; 
Whom  Fate  has  plac  d  me  .far  above, 

Nor  her  decrees  coii'd'ft  a  ter: 
Then  yield  with  grace  the  fovereign  rule, 
Not  think  to  make  me  thus  a  tool, 
t  or  thofe  who  hang  me  for  a  fool, 

Will  find  a  knave  in  the  halter. 

RONDEAU— IN    THE  CESTUS. 


THINK  not  here  to  drive  your  gig, 
Madam  Juno; 
I'll  make  you  know, 
Who's  at  home,  or  burn  my  vr'g. 

Why,  I  11  know  the  realon. 
You  may  grin    but  I'll  bet  twenty. 
Her  Lord  and  Mafttr, 
I  mall  caQ  her  ; 

And  as  to  witnefles,  I've  ]  lentV( 
Iu  good  time  and  fcafor. 

Think  not,  Sac. 


240      niBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Shall  I  by  her  —  my  goods  and  chattels, 
Be  ltd  by  the  nofe  here, 
Nor  difpofc  her 

As  I  lift  —  Why,  Sir,  thcfe  battles, 
'Gaiiift  me  are  petty  treafon, 

Think  not,  &c. 


AIR  —  IN  THE  CESTUS. 


WITH  that  begirt,  each  dowdy  girl 
Gets  every  charm,  does  the  but  alk  it; 
Her  teeth  become  a  row  of  pearl, 
Euclos'd  within  a  coral  ca/kct. 
Carnations  bloom  upon  her  cheeks, 
Rofes  take  place  of  blotch  and  pimpJc; 
The  air's  perfnm'd  whene'er  fhe  fpeaks, 
And  Cupids  play  in  every  dimple- 


AIR.  —  -IN  THE  CESTUS. 


WHO  calls  on  her  whofe  powerful  art, 
Erecls  a  throne  in  every  heart  ; 
Whole  love  all  court,  whofe  anger  fear  — 
Venus  yclept  —  behold  her  here. 
Sighs  ionic  fond  youth  his  love  unkind, 
W\;u'd  he  fome  wntchful  Argus  blind  ? 
Glows  Ibrue  fair    virgin's  modeft  cheek, 
With  wiflics  that  flie  dare  not  fpeak  ? 

Who  calls,  <Jcc. 


AIR  -  IN   THE   CESTUS. 


FINE  fport,  indeed,  for  god  and  godlin, 
To  fee  great  Jove  become  Moll  Codlin  ; 
And  threat  his  wife  with  iift  and  horfewhip, 
Becaufe  flie  loves  a  little  gollip, 
Yet  he,  forfooth,  can  trot  and  amble, 
And  after  fcores  of  miffes  ramble; 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         241 

Leave,  gods,  at  Hercules  your  grinning, 
The  matter  of  the  world's  a  fpinning. 
Though  while  fuch  worthy  work  is  doing, 
Slap  goes  the  univerfe  to  ruin  ; 
The  trumpet  founds  wars  rude  and  civil, 
Convulfe  the  earth,  while  to  the  devil 
They  go  their  own  way,  and  no  wonder, 
His  li»ht'uing's  out  —  afleep  his  thunder. 


AIR  —  IN    THS   CESTUS. 


HEAR  the  merry  minftrel  found, 
On  the  ear  it  rings, 
While  all  the  firings, 
Are  one  entire  vibration, 
The  tinkling  pleafure  fpreads  around. 
And  as  it  plays, 
Sweetly  conveys, 
From  fenfe  to  fenfe, 
Soft  eloquence, 
In  thrilling  circulation. 
But  ftringlefs,  broken,  out  of  tune, 
Time  s  thrown  away  ; 
For  did  you  play. 
Without  the  leaft  ceffation, 
And  flrum  from  January  till  June  ; 
You  ftill  may  bang, 
At  every  twang, 
The  difmal  hum, 
The  more  you  thrum. 
But  fpcaks  its  mutilation. 

But  hear,  &c. 

Juft  fo  let  down  its  pegs,  the  heart 
In  fadnefs  fits, 
Nor  once  admits 
Of  any  confolation  ; 
But  fcrew  it  into  tune,  each  fniart, 
And  anxious  care, 
DiiTolvcs  to  air, 
Alone  its  joys 
The  mind  employs, 
And  all  is  jubilation. 

So  hear  the,  &c, 
X 


242          DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

AIR IN  THE  CE3TUS. 


HOW  happy  flie,  -n-ho  ne'er  can  know 

The  miiery  of  the  great ; 
Who,  far  from  reach  of  fcepter'd  woe, 

Finds  in  her  low  eftatc, 
Joy  in  her  innocence — delight 

In  fcenes  that  fli!l  prtftnt; 
Pictures  that  health  and  rtrcngth  excite, 

And  tranfport  in  content  : 
One  brook,  her  mirror  and  her  drink, 

The  happy  wanderer  leeks  ; 
And  as  her  lambs  play  round  its  brink, 

Good  Nature  paints  her  check?. 
Few  are  her  wants,  certain  her  joy  ; 

For  rcafon's  glad  confent 
Points  out  her  innocent  employ, 

And  guides  her  to  content. 

AIR IN   THE  CESTUS. 


SPORTSMEN  who  are  ftaunch  and  true, 
Ne'er  the  timid  hare  pnrfue; 

Quiv'ring,  quaking  ; 

Shir'ring,  lliaking  ; 
Trembling,  totfring  in  her  flight, 
She  their  pity  wou.d  excite. 
But  who,  a  badger  fet  at  bay, 
Willies  not  to  make  his  prey  ? 
Where's  the  heart  companion  fhock* 
To  enfnare  the  fuhtle  fox  ? 
Come  on,  then,  and  partake  the  fpoiU, 
Cunning  Reyjiard's  in  the  toils- 
Sly  and  artful  M!  prepare, 
For  my  madam  fuch  a  fnare, 
So  clofe  and  cunning  a  wife  gin, 
With  her  eyes  o^en  flie'il  run  in. 


DJBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       243 

'Ware  haunches,  Juno,  for  I'll  follow 
Hard  at  your  hcei»  with  a  view  hollow ! 


..«>..  »<  >..  ?Q>  "<^5  f^J  ••«)-.  •»«>.. 

AIR — IN  THE  CESTUS. 


MF.EK  I<11  be  as  Venu's  clove  ? 

Your  prefence  court,  your  abfence  mourn  ; 

Love  {hall  he  the  price  of  love, 

And  kindntfs  aik  a  kind  return. 

Foliy  (halt  ne'er  my  mind  defile, 

From  prudence  wilt  I  ne'er  depart, 

My  face  fhall  wear  a  conftant  imile, 

And  duty  govern  my  heart. 


AIR  -  IN   GREAT   NEWS. 


COME  buy  my  ftraw,  and  I'll  give  you  a  fong, 

I  dc.nt  fay  my  long  any  fatire  contains, 

I  do'nt  lay  it  touches  on  phyiic  or  law, 

The  knave's  cunning  thrift,  or  the  ufurer's  gains; 

1  don't  fay  it  execrates  cheating  at  play, 

Or  points  out  to  (corn  every  knave  in  life's  throng  ? 

Or  difpifes  the  flanderer,  the  utmofl  I  fay, 

I«,  buy  my  flraw,  and  I'll  give  you  a  fong. 

I  don't  fay  the  man,  who  difTeminates  ftrife, 

Through  a  land,   the  world's  wonder  rich  profperous  aui 

brave, 

That  protevStion  affords  to  hia  children,  and  wife, 
Is  a  good  deal  a  fool,  and  a  little  a  knave. 
I  don't  fay  the  thief,  who  your  purfe  deals  away, 
Is  more  honeft  than  the  t'other  who  does  you  foui  wrong, 
Under  frienclfhip's  fair  vizzard,  the  utmoft  I  fay 
Is,  buy  my  flraw,  and  I'll  give  you  a  fong. 
1  don't  fay  young  gentlemen,  caufe  'tis  the  rage 
To  be  rcndcr'd  notorious  by  public  eclat, 
While  poor  beauty,  and  youth,  loofe  their  power  to  crgage. 
Are  wrong  to  flea!  off,  with  fome  fpruce  grandmaiv.a. 
'Gainft  monkeys  and  ape^l  don't  mean  to  inveigh, 


244         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Nor  do  I  affcrt  that  their  feelings  are  wrong, 

Who  wilTi  worth  at  the  devi)  :  the  utmoft  I  fay 

Is,  buy  my  ftraw  and  I'll  give  you  a  fong. 

I  don't  fay  that  honour,  fair  dealing,  and  truth, 

Are  better  than  fraud,  and  chicanery  and  lies, 

That  the  maftiffs  of  age,  and  the  puppies  nf  youth, 

Howe're  \ve  may  pity,  we  flill  muft  defpife. 

Nay  did  one  whip  folly,  even  though  one  fliould  flay, 

Her  own  back  for  materials  to  furnifh  the  thong, 

Do  I  fay  flie'd  he  callous,  the  utmoft  I  fay 

Is,  buy  my  Araw,  and  I'll  give  you  a  fong. 


BALLAD — IN     GREAT   NEWS. 


BESEECH  you,  would  ye,  gentle  folks, 

Dame  fortunes  gifts  reveal ; 
I  can  at  will  turn  all  the  fpokesi 

That  guide  her  fickle  wheel  : 
Nor  dregs  of  tea,  nor  coffee  grounds, 

That  myftic  apparatus', 
Need  I  to  fliew  life's  ups  and  down* 

To  ev'ry  Fortunatus: 
The  fmiling  road  to  human  blifs, 
Wou'd  you  purfue,  the  myft'ry's  this — • 
He  that's  content  hath  fortune  found, 
Cheerly  with  him  her  wheel  goes  round. 

Gluttons  blame  fortune  for  that  gout 

They  from  intemp'rance  fee', 
While  yonder  ircn  mufcled  lout 

Enjoys  his  fcanty  meal  : 
The  indolent  poor  fortune  curfe 

To  fill  up  life's  hiatus, 
"While  the  induftrious  find  the  purfe, 

And  cap  of  Fortunatus. 
The  fmiling  road  to  human  blifs, 
Thus  court  your  (lep.sthe  myft'ry's  this 

He  that's  content,  &c. 
Then  cuftoms  ideots,  do  not  fay 

Fortune  can  blindly  err, 
If  to  her  fane  you  mifs  the  way, 

'Tis  you  are  blind,  not  htr. 


DIBDIN  S   SELECTED   SONGS.  245 

The  even  path  before  us  lies 

To  where  her  gifts  await  us, 
And  he  contentment  hath  made  wife, 

Is  the  true  Fortunatus, 
The  foiling  road  to  human  U'.ifs, 
Come  then  and  tread,  the  myu'ry's  this, 
He  thafs  content,  &c. 


BALLAD—  IN    GREAT   NEWS. 


INSPIRED  by  fo  grateful  a  duty, 

In  terms  frrongtft  art  can  devite, 
B;irds  l.ave  written  thofe  raptures  on  beauty, 

That  lovers  have  wafted  on  fighs  : 
J,  to  fill  the  fweet  theme  more  completely, 

Sing  the  beauty  of  goodnefs  the  •while, 
For  every  face  is  drti's'd  fweet !y, 

Where  beams  a  brnevolent  fmile. 

While  the  heart  fome  beneficent  a (51  ion, 

Contemplates,  with  joy  the  eyes  fpeak, 
On  the  lip  quivers  mute  fatUfa&ion, 

And  a  glow  of  delight  paints  the  cheek. 
JBlifs  pervade*  every  feature  completely, 

Adding  beauty  to  beauty  the  while, 
And  the  lovelicfl  face  looks  more  f\veetly4 

Where  bc^.'.ns  a  benevolent  fmile. 

-^  • 

BALLAD IN    GREAT  NEWS. 


SWEET  is  the  fhip  that  under  fail, 
Spreads  her  white  bofom  to  the  gale, 
Sweet,  oh  !  fweets  the  flowing  can; 
Swett  to  poifc  the  labouring  oar, 
That  tugs  us  to  our  native  fliore, 
When  the  boatfwain  pipes  the  b;>rge  to  man  ; 
Sweet  failing  with  a  f-w'ring  breeze; 
Eut  oh  !   rnuc.h  fweeter  than  all  thtfe, 
Is  Jack's  dtli"bt  his  lovely  Nan* 
' 


246  NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS, 

The  needle  faithful  to  the  north, 
To  fhew  of  conftancy  the  worth, 
A  curious  lefTon  teaches  man: 
The  needle  time  may  ruft,  a  fquall 
Capfize  the  binacle  and  all, 
Let  feamanfhip  do  a'l  it  can  : 
My  love  in  worth  fhall  higher  rife, 
Nor  time  fhali  ruft,  nor  fqualls  capfize, 
My  faith  and  truth  to  lovely  Nan. 

When  in  the  bilboes  I  was  penn'd, 

For  ftrving  of  a  worthlefs  friend, 

And  every  creature  from  me  ran; 

X"  fhip  performing  quarentine, 

Was  ever  fo  deferted  ieen, 

None  hail'd  me  woman,  child,  nor  man  ; 

But  though  falfe  friend  11-,  ip's  fails  were  furi'd. 

Though  cut  a  drift  by  ail  the  world, 

I'd  all  the  world  in  lovely  Nan. 

I  love  my  duty,  love  my  frier;!  , 

Love,  truth,  and  merit  to  defend, 

To  moan  their  lofs  who  hazard  ran  ; 

I  love  to  take  an  honed  part, 

Love  beauty  and  a  fpotlefs  heart^ 

By  manners  love  10  (new  the  man  ; 

To  fail  through  life,  by  honour's  breeze  — 

'Twas  ali  along  of  loving  thefe 

T'ifft  made  me  dout  on  lovely  Kan. 


BALLAD  —  IN     GREAT    NEWS. 


f/ON'T  yon  fee  that  as  how  I'm  a  fportfman  iu  ftyle, 

Ai!  fo  kickilli,  fo  Mini,  and  fo  tall ;  \ 

Why  I've  fearch'd  after  game  and  that  man)'*  the  mile, 

And  feed  no  bit  of  nothing  at  all ; 
My  licence  I  pocket?,  my  poney  I  ftrides, 

And  I  pelts  through  the  wind  and  the  rain,  i 

And,  if  likely  to  fall,  flicks  the  fpurs  in  the  fides, 

Leaves  the  bridle  air.l  ho'ds  by  the  mane  ;  t 

To  be  fure  dad  at  home  kicks  up  no  little  ftrife, 
Bet  dabby  \\  hat's  that,  cn't  fafliion  and  life  ~l 
At  fpoiting  I  never  was  knov'd  for  to  lag, 

I  was  a.wayb  in  danger  the  firft; 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS.      247 

When  at  Epfom  laft  Eafter  they  turned  out  the  (lag, 

I'm  the  lad  that  was  rolled  in  the  dufi  ; 
Then  they  call  me  *  Kincom  why,  over  the  fields, 

There  a  little  heyond  Dulwich  Common, 
I  a  chick  and  a  goole,  tumbled  head  over  heels, 

And  two  mudlarks,  befides  an  old  woman  : 
Then  let  miferly  dad,  kick  up  fbrrow  and  ftrife, 
I'm  the  lad  that's  genteel,  and  knows  fafhion  and  iifet 
But  don't  go  for  to  think  I  neglects  number  one, 

Often  when  my  companion?,  with  ardour, 
Are  hunting  about  with  the  dog  ;.nd  the-gun, 

I  goes  and  I  hunts  in  the  larder  : 
There  I  fprings  me  a  woodcock  or  fluflies  a  quail, 

Or  finds  pufs,  as  fhe  fits  under  cover, 
Then  fo  ho  !  to  the  barrel,  to  Mart  me  forae  ale, 

And  when  I  have  dined  and  fed  rover, 
Pays  my  landlord  his  (Lot,  as  I  ogles  his  w  ifc, 
While  the  daughter  cries  out,  lord  what  falhion  and  life. 
Then  I  buys  me  fome  game,  all  as  homeward  we  jog, 

And  when  the  folks  ax  how  I  got  'cm, 
Though  I  fhooteu  but  once,  and  then  killed  the  poor  dog, 

I  fwears  and  then  (land's  to't  I  Ihot  'em  ; 
So  come  round  me  ye  fportfmcn  thai's  fmart  .and  what  not, 

All  (lilifli  and  cutting  a  flafh, 

When  your  piece  won't  kill  game,  charged  with  po  \\iTcr 
and  fliot, 

To  bring  'cm  down,  down  with  your  cafh; 
And  if  with  their  jokes,  and  their  jeers,  folks  are  rife 
Why  dabby  fays  you,  'ent  it  faihion  and  life. 


BALLAD  —  IN   GREAT   NEWS. 


SEE,  fee  to  join  the  revel  rout, 

All  hopping,  fkipping,  prancing, 
With  fqueakand  fquall,  and  fhrick  and  fliour, 

A  1  foris  and  fizc's  prancing, 
As  old  as  pole?  and  big  as  ti:ns, 

Three  graces  lead  ihe  revels, 
Then  devils  tame  as  lambs, 

And  Nuns  as  impudent  as  devils. 

'  Do  you  know  me?' — "  Oh  !  yes,  excellent  well — you  are 
a  ftili  monger :" — '  No  I  cn't ;  I  am  a  methodift  preacher.'— 
"  Then  I  would  vou  werefo  honeft  a  man.'* 


24$         DISDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS-. 

Thus  leaving  every  care  !>ehind, 
The  pack  ftale  reafon  fcornin.-, 
Chafe  pieafures  of  the  night  to  fiad, 

The  head  ache  of  the  morning. 
Sec  al!  conditions,  fexes,  years, 

Unite  to  keep  the  farce  on, 
A  fwcaring  quaker  next  appears, 

And  next  a  drunken  parlbn; 
Beaux,  chattering  nonfenfe  lou<l  in  peals, 

Bells,  furni died  well  with  clappers, 
Tumblers,  and  dancers  without  heels, 

And  lawyers  without  nappers. 

'Do  you  know  me?' — "Oh!  yes,  very  well — you  are 
Venus," — 'Will  you  be  my  Mars?" — "  With  all  my  foul." — 
•  Come  unmafk,  and  let  me  behold  the  beauties  of  the  Cy 
prian  Queen.' — "  Let  us  unmafk  tory.ther.1' — '  Agreed.' — 
«'  Oh !  plague  and  misfortune,  my  bufband !" — «  Oh !  hell 
and  the  devil,  my  wife  !' 

Thus  leaving  every  care  behind, 

The  rack  ftale  reafon  fcorning, 
CV'rc  pleafures  of  the  nighr,  to  find 

The  he  ad  ache  of  the  morning. 
At  laft  to  clofe  their  noify  mirth, 

As  finis  to  this  kick  up, 
From  the  fupper  room  they  iffue  forth, 

And  roar,  and  rant,  and  hiccup; 
My  angel — whau — zounds,   pull  his  nofe, 

Sir  do  you  mean  to  bam  ;re  ? 
I've  lo.ft  my  wig — heS  fpoilt  my  clothe?, 

A  ring,  boo,  fcotmdrc',  dauinie. 

'  An  oH  c!oafhs  nvn  to  call  the  grand  Turk  a  fcoundrel  f— 
Satiafa&ion."  "  A  ring."  'Dabby,  I  never  boxes.'  "Kick 
hi:n  out."  '  Yea  I  v.-iil.'  "  I  was  never  fee  any  thing  fo 
droll  in  my  life."  'Ah!  there'll  be  murder,'  "  Arrah  fait 
that's  right,  exchange  addre/Tes.'  I'll  eat  him  up  alive — I'll 
maul  tbe  villain.'1  '  Hark  forward — Oh!  its  a  fine  row^ 
dabby  I  love  a  row.' 

The  pack  thu?  leaving  care  behind, 

And  rrufty  reafon  fee r:.i"r, 
Chafe  pieafures  of  the  night,   to  find 
The  he-id  ache  of  the  morning.. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS,         249 

BALLAD — IN    GREAT   NEWS, 


SAY  foldier  which  of  glory's  charms, 

That  heroes'  foul 8  enflame, 
Gives  brighteft  lultre  to  their  arms, 

Or  beft  enfurcs  their  fame  ? 
Is  it  her  lion-mettlcd  rage, 

Let  loofe  from  ardour's  den, 
Legion  \vith  legion    to    engage, 

And  make  men  daughter  men? 
Is  it  to  a  deiencelefs  foe, 

Mild  mercy  to  forbear, 
And  glut  the  call  of  vengeance  ?  No  ; 

The  brave  delight  to  fpare  : 
'Tis  clemency  pale  mifery's  friend, 

Foremort  in  glory's  van, 
To  dry  the  darting  tear,  and  blend 

The  hero  with  the  man. 

Then  on  the  wretch  fall  double  fhame, 

Who,  in  foul  flander  lored, 
Kntnvs  war  alone  by  murder's  name. 

The  foldier  by  the  fword  : 
As  bleffings  out  of  evils  come, 
Let  once  the  conflivSt  ceafe, 
The  eagle  bring*  the  halcyon  home, 

War  courts  the  finiles  of  peace: 
Yet,  he  to  higher  merit  vaults, 

Who  glory-'s    track  hath    trod, 
Great,  generous  merit  that  exalts, 

A  mortal  to  a  God  : 
'Tis    clemency,  pale  mifery's  friend, 

Ever  in  glory's  van, 
To  dry  the  ftarting  tear,  and  blend 
The  hero  with  the  man. 

BALLAD — IN  GREAT  NEWS. 


ANACREON  tells  us  that  mortals  mere  clods, 
By  the  drink  they  love  beft  arc  exalted  to  gods, 


45°         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

And  fate  there's  no  lie  in  the  truth  on't,  don't  wine, 

Though  as  beaflly  as  devils,  make  topers  divine? 

Three  treads  in  a  trice  makes  a  god  of  poor  fnip, 

Tars  are  every  one  Neptunes  when  e'er  they  drink  flip, 

To  be  Jove,  or  Apollo,  or  Mars,  would  ye  chufe, 

Ah!  you've  nothing  to  do  but  get  drunk  with  Rambooze. 

Then  a  natural  traniltion  from  heaven,  if  you  go 

Down  to  hell,  ah!  you'll  find  them  all  drinking  below, 

Each  driving  in  Lethe  to  hurry  his  care: 

The  feducer  forgets  when  he  ruined  the  fair, 

Greeks  the  pillory  forget  they  fo  richly  deferve, 

The  ufurer  forgets  when  he  let  the  man  ftarve, 

The  perjurer  forgets  that  he  died  in  his  fhoes, 

But  let  us  all  fuch  rafcals  forget  in  Ran. booze. 

Our  Shelah,  cried  out,  one  day,  making  her  moan. 

From  my  arms,  where  1  held  him  fart,  Taddy  is  gone, 

And  though  in  my  prefence  he  always  will  (lay, 

For  ever  the  wanton  young  rogue's  fled  away  : 

I'm  dead,  and  I'm  kilt,  and  fliall  never  recover, 

Heaven  take  me,  or  give  me  that  heaven,   my  lover, 

Teach  me  how  to  be  mail,  or  my  fenfes  to  lofe, 

My  dear  creature,  cried  I,  jufl  get  drunk  with  Rambooze. 

When  hard  at  the  whifkey  an  Irifhman  pulls, 

In  fearch  of  Europas,  he  rides  upon  buils, 

Of  liquors  large  libations  Italians  fcarc  fwallcw, 

But  every  fqualini  becomes  an  Apollo  : 

Then  each  fair  one's  a  goddefs,  don't  every  Hie, 

Like  an  angel,  talk  Icanda!,  whene'er  flie  drinks  tea, 

You  mod  Htlicon  fip,  would  you  turn  to  a  mufe, 

And,  if  you'd   be  Bacchus,  get  drunk  with  Ramboaze. 

But  did  I  not  ftop  1  fhould  never  have  done, 

In  me  all  the  Deities  centre  in  one; 

I'm  as  valiant  as  Mars,  and  as  mighty  as  Jove, 

As  cunning  as  Mercury,  as  am'rous  as  Love  : 

I'm  Apollo  and  Momus,  together  for  wit, 

And  I  boaft  an  Olympus  my  godflvp  to  fit, 

For  what  bttter  heaven,    upon  earth,   can  I  choofc, 

Than  good  health,  a  kind  wife,  a  true  friend  and  Ramboozc  '- 


ftlBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONG3. 

..<..<...<. -<<=--<~>3~!>  >">•>••>•••>-• 
BALLAD IN     GREAT    NEWS. 


WHERE  a  learned  phyfician  who  writes  for  all  illi, 
'Stead  of  taking  a  guinea  obliged  to  take  pills, 
Or  compeli'd  to  examine  mortality's  bills, 

For  his  own  and  his  brethren's  flaughter  : 
Were  an  ideal  widow  her   fponfc  given  over, 
At  the  moment  a  promife  fhe  made  to  her  lover, 
JjAdvertifed  that  her  hu&aud  began  to  recover, 
Both  thcfe  would  be  fiili  out  of  wAtcr  : 

Odd  lifli,  queer  fifli,  ftrangc  fiili,  droll  fifk — , 
In  fhort  they'd  be  filh  out  of  water. 
Did  a  methodift  preacher,  leave  fleecing  his  flock, 
Did  witlings  let  in  common  fcnfe,  fliouhl  flic  knock, 
Did  a  toper  reel  homewards  before  three  o'clock, 

Did  puppies  find  tafle  when  they  fought  her, 
Were  a  rook,  by  a  pigeon,  choufed  out  of  his  booty, 
Did  a  wife,  kind  and  handfome,  and  true  to  her  duty, 
Meet  a  brute,  unattra&ed  by  goodnefs  or  beauty, 
All  thcfe  would  be  filh  out  of  water. 
Odd  filh,  &c. 

Should    true  limbs  of  the  law,  while  extending  their  palms, 
From  honour  or  confcience,  be  troubled  with  qualms, 
Should  fpendthrifts  grow  prudent,  or  mjfcrs  give  alms, 

Or  honefly  tempt  a  defaulter, 
Did  a  lover,  in  high  expectation,  when  ready, 
At  the  place  of  appointment,  feqneftered  and'  iludy, 
Encounter  a  broomftick  in  (lead  of  a  lady, 

All  thefe  would  be  filh  out  of  water. 

Odd  fiili,   &c. 

Did  a  tar,  or  in  private,  or  public  frrife, 
For  his  king,  or  his  friend,  fear  to  venture  his  life, 
Did  a  j'.ihnan,  from  Ireland,  in  fearch  of  a  wife, 

Expect  fortune,  and  meet  with  her  daughtt  r, 
In  fhort  from  mankind,  did  one  Itrip  off  the  vizard, 
Without  fear  of  palling  for  witch,  or  for  wizzard. 
One  might  fee  'twould  fo  curfedly  flick  in  each  gizzard, 

That  they'd  all  appear  fiili  out  of  water  : 
Odd  nth,  &c. 


252         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

..<..<>... <^>  Ti>.^ ,..>.,, 

BALLAD  —  IN    GREAT  NEWS. 

THE  fquirrel  that  jingles  hU  hells  in  his  cage, 

Is  the  type  of  that  fo.'ly  and  ftrife, 
Call't  the  fafhion,  the  ton,  or  the  kick,  or  the  rage 

That  makes  up  the  bufHe  of  life  : 
On  the  wheel  of  dame  fortune,  now  high,  and,  now  low, 

As  they  amble,  and  gallop,  and  pace, 
While  in  fcarcli  of  that  phantom  called  pleafure  they  go, 

Each  ftrives  to  be  firft  in  the  chafe  : 

So  round,  round,  round  g:  es  fcug  in  his  cage, 

And  jingles  his  bells  with  a  fufs  and  a  rage, 

Still  turning  about  and  about, 
And  when  tir'd  with  his  journey  remains  in  the  place, 

ExaiStly  where  firft  he  let  out. 

In  fcarch  after  knowledge,  the  book  worm  explores, 

Where  nature's  wide  regions  expand, 
But  though  fancy  conduces  him  to  numbcrlefs  fliores, 

He  never  once  touches  on  land  : 
His  bark's  toft  in  dorms  of  opinions  that  rage, 

Nor  truth's  tracklefs  path  can  he  trace, 
Till  error  and  doubt  bring  the  night  of  old  age, 

Fair  certainty's  day  to  deface. 
So  round,  &c. 

The  novice  goes  forward  in  fearch  of  a  friend, 

To  fliare  both  his  heart  and  his  pelf, 
Till  humbled  and  tired  with  his  toil  without  end, 

He  at  laft  makes  a  friend  of  himfelf : 
One  who  fairnefs  profeffed,  picked  his  pocket  at  play, 

One  deceived  him,  and  laughed  in  his  face, 
One  he  fhewrd  to  his  miftrcfs,  foon  flole  her  away, 

One  was  inedii  and  another  was  bafe. 

So  round,  £c. 
Thus  men  mifs  the  fubflance,  and  grafp  at  the  name, 

Thus  proj;-.ifl-T.s  find  midnight  at  noon, 
Thus  heroes  chnie  bubble?,  and  fancy  them  fame, 

And  thus  children  crv  for  the  moon. 
Thofe  are  pleafures  alone  that  lead  reafon:s  f  ir  trainr 

The  reft  bring  but  fhame  and  difgrace, 
And  though  you  may  ftart  thema^.u'n  and  again, 

Vexed  and  tired  you'ii  give  over  the  chafe. 
So  round.,  &c. 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 


BALLAD  -  IN   GREAT  NEWS. 

'TWAS  one  day  at  Wapping  Im  dangers  o'crliauling, 

Jack  Junk  cotk'd  his  jemmy  and  broach'd  a  full  can, 
While  a  pcjffee  of  neighbours  of  each  different  calling, 

.Cried  only  but  hear  what  a  marvellous  man  : 
Avaft,  cried  out  Jack,  what's  there  marvellous  in  it  ? 
When  his  time's  cwne  the  flouteft  of  hearts  i;,ufi:  comply. 

Why  now  you  matter  tallow  chandler,  hy  way  of  throwing 
a  little  light  on  the  fubj~rt,  don't  you  think  'tis  better  tobc 
extinguifhed  when  one's  fi«htmgin  defence  of  one's  country, 
than  to  ftay  at  home  lingering  and  go  out  like  the  fnuff  of  a 
candle  ? 

Then  like  men  do  your  duty,  we  have  all  our  minute, 
And  at  (Va  or  afhore  we  (hall  live  till  we  die, 
llurraw,  hurraw,  hurraw  boys  let's  live  til!  we  die. 
Why  now  you  mafter  Plumber,  that  marvels  at  biilcnvs, 

I  lliall  founder  at  fca,  and  you'll  die  in  your  bed  ; 
What    of   that  ?  fome  have  fods,  and  fome  waves  for  their 
pillows, 

And  'its  likily  enough  we  may  both  die  of  !rad  : 
And  as  for  the  odds,  ail  the  difference  that's  Ji>  it, 
1  flial!  pop  off  at  once,  and  you',  I  lingering  lie 

Why  fmi'C  my  crooked  timbers,  who  knows  but  maflcr 
Snip,  there,  may  (lip  his  cab.e  and  break  hisbackv/itb 
taking  the  ninth  part  of  a  fall  off  the  fhopboard  into  his 
own  hell.  *^ 

Then  like  men,  &c. 
As  for  you  mafter  Bricklayer  to  make  out  your  calling, 

A  little  like  mine  e'n't  a  matter  that's  hard, 
Pray  mayn't  you  from  a  ladder  or  fcuff  j.cl  bt  falling, 

As  eal'y  as  I  Irom  a  rattling  or  yard  : 
The  n  for  you  its  commilfion  a  lile  may  bring  in  it, 
As  foon  as  a  Ihot  or  a  fplinter  for  I. 

As  for  mailer  DoAor,  the  Undertaker,  and  Sexton,  they 
don't  want  no  wipe  from  me,  they  lends  too  many  folk* 
contented  to  their  long  ho  lie,  not  to  kuow  h  ow  to  go  there 
couteutedly  themfclv«», 

Then  like  men,  &c. 

And  when  Captain  Death  comci  the  reckoning  to  fettle, 
You  may  clear  fliip  for  adtioa  a*  much  as  you  like, 
T 


254         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

And  behave  li  ke  a  man,  but  he  'as  fuch  weight  of  metal 

At  the  very  firft  broadfide  the  braveA  muu1  ftrike. 
.And  when  you  have  faid  al)  you  can  what's  there  in  it 
Who  tofcud  'gainft  a  itorin  but  a  lubber  would  try. 

For  as  to  qualms  of  confcience,  cheating  cuflomers  be 
traying  friends,  and  fuch  like,  being  a  let  of  honcft  trades 
men,  I  dare  fay  you  are  perfectly  eafy  about  thefe  fort  cf 
things. 

Then  like  men,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN    GREAT  NEWS. 


IN  one  thou'd'st  find  variety, 

Cried  Dick,  would'ft:  thou  on  wedlock  fix  ? 
1  rather  fhould  expect,  cry'd  I, 

Variety  in  five  or  fix  ; 
But  never  was  thy  counfel  light, 

I'll  do't  my  friend — fo  faid,  fo  done, 
I'm  noos'd  for  life,  and  Dick  was  right, 

I  find  variety  in  one. 
Her  tongue  has  more  variety 

Than  mufic's  fyflem  can  embrace  ; 
She  modulates  through  every  key, 

Squeaks  treble,  and  growls  double  bafei 
Diviiions  runs,  and  trills,  and  fhakes, 

Enough  the  noify  fpheres  to  flun  ; 
Thus,  as  liarfli  difcord  mufic  makes, 

I  find  variety  in  one. 
Her  drefs  boafts  fuch  variety, 

Such  forms,  materials,  fafhions,   huts, 
Each  animal  muft  plundtr'd  be, 

From  Ruffian  bears  to  cockatoos. 
Kosv  'tis  a  feather,  now  a  zone, 

Now  flic's  a  gipfyi  now  a  nun, 
To  change  like  the  camelon  prone, 

Eu't  this  variety  in  one  ? 
In  wedlock's  wide  variety, 

Thought,  word,  and  deed,  we  both  concur, 
If  file's  a  thunder  florm  to  me, 

So  I'm  an  April  clay  to  her  : 
Devil,  and  Angel,  black,  and  white, 

Thus  as  we  Hymen's  gauntlet  run, 


> 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         255 

And  kifs,  and  fcold,  and  love,  and  fi^ht, 
Each  finds  variety  in  one. 

Then  cherifh  love's  variety, 

In  i'pite  of  every  fneering  c!f. 
We're  nature's  children,  and  cn'i  fhe, 

In  change,  variety  iti'tlf  ? 
Her  clouds,  and  florins  are  willed  by  fate, 

MV.re  bright  to  fhow  her  radian!  fun  ; 
Mail  then  blelt  wedlock  in  whole  /Utc, 

Men  rind  variety  in  one. 


BALLAD IN    GREAT   NEWS. 


IF  you'll  only  iuft  promife  you'll  none  of  you  laugh, 

I'd  be  after  explaining  the  French  Telegraph  ; 

A  machine  that's  endow' J  with  i'uch  wonderful  now'r, 

It  writes,  reads,  and  fends  news  fifty  miles  in  an  hour  : 

Then  there's  watch  words,  a  fpy  glafs,  an  index  or  hand. 

And  many  things  more  none  of  us  underftand  ; 

But  which,  like  the  nofe  on  your  face,  will  be  clear, 

When  we  have,  as  ufual,  improv'd  on  them  here. 

Oh  !  the  dabblers  in  lotteries  will  grow  rich  as  Jews, 

.Steap  of  flying  of  pigeons,  to  bring  them  the  news, 

They'll  a  Te  cgraph  placf ,  upon  Old  Cruond  Quay, 

Fat  another  'bor.rd  fliip,  in  the  tr.idft  of  the  fea  : 

And  fo  on  to  town  each  to  tell  through  the  rank, 

The   firfk   thoufand   pound  prize   was   that  morn  drawn  a 

b'.ank, 

And  thus  if  the  air  fhould  but  chance  to  be  clear, 
In  two  hours  will  the  news  of  Dear  Dublin  fly  here. 
When  the  Newmarket  fquad  to  the  races  go  down, 
By  confederates,  and  Telegraphs,  (rationed  in  town, 
They'll  get  news  long  before  the  mail  coaches  conic  in, 
Plates,  matches,  and  fweepftakcs,  who  iofe,  and  who  win  : 
And  how  after  acrofTing,  and  jois'.ing,  dead  heat, 
That  Black  Legs,  and  Rook  were  by  Eelzebub  beat, 
Ah  !  juft  let  'hem  alone  by  my  foul  there's  no  fear, 
But  the  turf  will  improve  on  the  Telegraph  here. 
Ah  !  then  what  a  fare  guide  will  the  Telegraph  prove, 
'!"o  promote  their  dcfigus  who  are  dying  for  love, 
If  an  old  married  lady  ihou'd  court  a  young  man, 


i$6         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

O^n't  fhe  make  a  fpy  glafs  with  the  fiirks  of  her  fan  ? 

Then  fuppofe  an  appointment,  the  hour  to  be  two, 

Can't  the  index  point  thus  and  the  watch  word  be  boo  ? 

^arc  tliiin't  I  tell  you  I'd  make  it  appear, 

'i'wiii  be  mighty  convenient  improved  upon  here. 

Adieu  penny  ports,  mails,  and  coaches  adieu, 

Y«ur  occupation  is  gone,  'tic-  all  over  \vid  you, 

!!i  your  place  Tc'tgraphs,  on  our  houfes  we'll  ufc, 

To  tcli  tiine,  conduit  light'ning,  dry  fhirts,  and  fend  news  : 

Thus  \vhiie  fignals,  and  flag?,  dream  on  top  of  cachflrtet, 

The  town,  to  a  i,  r  :,  vill  appear  a  giant  fkct, 

-And  fi nee  England's  grand  Seer,  to  the  French  convey  Icar, 

Sure  fliar.t  we  improve  on  their  Telegraph  heie. 


BALLAD — IN   GREAT   NEWS. 


WEEN  I  fi:-fl  went  to  fchool  it  was  al'  my  delight, 
To  con  fon. cihing  or  other  from  morning  tonight  ; 
I  '.vould  never  coi.form,  nor  confefs,  nor  confent, 
And  fiowtvtr  conjured,  I  never  was  content : 
Eut  fo  wtil  I'd  conf'ufc,  and  conce.il  and  contrive, 
/vnd  couiV.ire,  and  concert,  and  controul,  and  connive, 
/iii  !  confute  and  contel!,  and  confound,  and  fo  on, 
!Nw  hoy  in  the  fchool  was  fo  pat  at  a  con. 
•Scarcely  did  I  emancipate,  manner*  to  knew, 
But  a  flrangc  predilection  I  cherifhed  for  pro  ; 
I  proceeded  with  care.vvou'd  propofc,  and  proteft, 
/Xi'c'  promoting  but  little,  a  great  deal  profelTed. 
Trocurcd  rich  coiineclions,  o'd  friends  to  provoke, 
Wiiu  a  titter  provided,  prolonged  my  lord's  joke, 
And  pronounced  each  man's   friend,  and  producing  no  foe, 
kit   itt  e  con,  and  ftuck  tightly  to  pro. 
•  tmi  well  with  the  world,  my  next  thought  after  this, 
\Vas  to  yield  to  the  ton,  and  to  keen  a  line  mifs, 
B>:    he-re  I  mifcarried,  was  after  mifled, 
T.'i.i,!ntcl:i-d,and  mitlaken,  and  every  wayfpcd  : 
conduct  mifgave  me,  and  full  of  milltrutt, 
J  fet  my  mifs  down  where  I  took  her  up  firfr, 
CJ,;ul  I'd  met  with  no  rnifhap,  nor  worfe  milchicf  than    th:=.. 
Ami  idolved  inv  next  froiick  iLou'd  not  be  aruifs. 


-    DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         257 

Still  playing  on  wordi,  and  refolved  to  get  rich, 
I  learnt  there  were  hows — but  then  how  to  find  which, 
Fortunes  were  to  be  n.ibbed,  I  find  out  now  and  then, 
A'lJ  knew  ibmething  of  where,   but  I  cou'd  not    tell  when 
Scarce  an  if  had  formed  hope,  when  a  but  produced  fear, 
Then  in  fearching  out  there,  I  foon  loft  myfelf  here, 
Till  betwixt  and  between,  this  and  that,  fomehow,  T, 
In  fearch  of  the  wherefore,  loft  fight  of  the  why. 
Thus  ringing  the  changes  on  life's  wordy  war, 

i  I  found  its  fheet  anchor exirted  in  for  ; 

*  And,  by  prudence  forwarncd,  folly's  joys  to  forbear, 
Soon  did  all  nonfenfe  forfake,  and  forfwear  ; 
For  the  world,  for  fociety,  deftined  to  live, 
When  by  any  one  wronged  I  forget  and  forgive, 
Keep  my  fortune  in  petto  for  honourable  ends, 
Juft  enough  for  myfeif,  and  the  reft  for  my  friends. 

BALLAD IN    GREAT    NEWS. 


TELL  me  not  of  men's  follies,  their  whims  and  caprices, 
That  the  fum  of  their  vices  each  moment  cncreafes, 
That  like  montters  of  prey  every  friend  his  friend  fleeces, 
Still  Oriving  to  cheat,  to  cajole  and  trapan  : 
If  nature  i.mva'.ted  the  pallions  that  rule  us, 
If  cuiiom  her  thadow  deludes  us  and  fool  us, 
Acquitted  by  candour  where  rigour  would  fchool  us, 
Lay  the  blame  on  the  manners  and  not  on  the  man. 
Should  a  beauty  involved  in  the  vortex  of  pleafure, 
Where  of  blifs  flimfy  falhion  fupplics  the  gay  meafurc, 
Yield  fome  villain  accomplished  her  virtue's  fole  trcafure, 
And  hi  that  abyfs  plunge  that  na  ray  of  hope  cheers  : 
While  you  grieve  that  fnnplicity's  charms  were  denied   her, 
Th  it  of  innocence  little  flie  e'er  had  to  guide  her, 
Though  fali'n  ne'er  to  rife,  do  not  icorn,  nor  deride  her, 
But,  forgetting  her  errors,  ah!  pity  hsr  tears. 
S!  ould  a  youth,  for  an  opulent  ftation  intended, 
On  whom  lavifh  parents  large  fums  have  expended, 
'Stead  of  virtues  and  talents  diftinguiflied  and  fpleudM, 
Confirm  vice  at  college  imbibed  when  at  ichool; 
Low  his  win-!,  with  in>  firmnei's,  no  difcrttnmation, 
1  rcm  Plena's  fount  Head  of  making  libation, 
Y  l 


1,'IBDIN  S  SELECTED    SONG9. 

Sho  iicl  he  roll  down  tlic  torrent  of  wilddiffipation, 

!n  his  loi's  to  focieiy  pity  the  fool. 

Tbefc,  thcfe,  as  I  look  through  the  world,  are  mv    feelingi 

f'-T,  duii  \vith  rrunkiud  on  a  par  with  their  dealings, 

I  .  t  HI  Decided,  ai.d  accufer,  the  eternal  appealing*., 

S..on  JLiltice  would  wreck  oa  chicanery's  fhelf : 

Then  hypocrites  pity,  the  faint  hides  a  linner, 

Of  the  poet  buy  nonienfe,  the  man  wants,  a  dinner, 

Thus,  lofc  whoe'er  may,  flill  fhall  you  be  a  winner, 

For  in  pitying  others  you  honour  yourfelf. 

BALLAD IN    GREAT     NEWS. 


TOM  TRUELOVE  woo'd  the  feweettft  fair, 

That  e'er  to  tar  was  kind, 
Her  face  was  of  a  beauty  rare, 

More  beautiful  her  mind  ; 
His  meilmates  heard,  while  wMi  delight, 

He  named  her  for  his  bride, 
A  fail  appeared,  ah  fata!  fight ! 

For  grief  his  love  had  died; 
iiuft  I,  cried  he.,  thole  charms  refign, 

I  loved  fo  dear,  fo  weli  ? 
Would  they  had  tolled  inflead  of  thine, 

Tom  Truelovc's  knell. 

Break  heart  at  once  and  there's  an  end, 

Thou  all  that  heaven  could  give! 
Ei:'..  hold,  I  have  a  noble  friend, 

Yet.  yet  for  him  t'il  live: 
Fortune,  who  all  her  baleful  fpight, 

Kot  yet  on  Tom  had  tried, 
Sent  news,   one  rough,  tcmpeftuous  eight, 

That  his  dear  friend  had  died  : 
And  thou  too  !  mull  thee  refign, 

Who  honour  loved  fo  well  ? 
Would  they  had  tclled  inflead  of  thine, 

Tom  Truelove's  knell. 

Enough,  enough,  a  fait  fea  wave, 

A  healing  bahr.  fiiail  bring; 
A  failor  you  cried  :  i.e,  and  brave  ? 

Live  fl'iil  to  fen  e  ycur  king! 


niBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS.  259 

Tlie  moment  come?,  behold  the  foe; 

Thanks   generous   friend,   he    fried, 
The  lee  ond  broadlidc  laid  him  low, 

He  named  his  iove  and  died  : 
The  tale,  in  mournful  accents  fung, 

His  Iricnds  fttll  furrowing  ttll, 
How  fad,  and  folemn,  three  times  rui.g, 

loin  Truelove's  knell. 

BALLAD IN    GREAT     NEWS. 


I'VE  thought  and  I've  faid  it  fin  I  were  a  boy, 

That  what  folks  get  at  ea'y  they  never  cnpy  ; 

Why  I  was  the  fame,  at  what's  homely  I'd  feoff, 

But  how  fine  if  it  corned  a  good  many  miles  off: 

So  big  with  this  fancy,  though  but  a  poor  clown, 

I  hied  me  away  for  to  fee  the  great  town, 

Where  they  pufh'd  me,  and  throng'd  me  a'l  as  one. is  a  fair, 

Then  they,d   titter,  and   fnigger,  and  laugh,  then    I'd  flare. 

Why  bum  kin  did'lt  e'er  fee  iuch  Sn'ry  as  this, 

In  your  place,  cried  a  monkey  in  trowfcrs,  why  res ! 

You'd  yeur  joke  mafter  coxcomb,  and  now  I'll  have  mine, 

I've  ieen  peacocks  and  gold  finches  ten  times  as  fiue  : 

So  I  left  mafter  whiffle,  and  whittled  aljng, 

Then  humm'd  to  myfcli  the  fag  end  of  a  long; 

The  good  that  we  wifh  for  mayn't  match  what  we've  got, 

Their  minds  are  their  kingdom,  who're  pleaitd  with  their  lot, 

And  to  whatever  place  difcontcnted  folks  roair, 

At  laft  they'll  be  forced  to  fay  this  of  their  home, 

Our  friends  are  as  true,  and  our  wives  are  as  comely, 

And  damn  it  home's  home,  be  it  ever  fo  homely. 

So  fince  for  ftrange  fights,  I  to  town  took  my  range, 

Faith  I  zeed  fights  in  plenty,  and  all  of  them  flrange) 

I  zecd  folks  roll  in  riches,  who  pleafure  ne'er  knew, 

1  zecd  honeft  poverty  rich  as  a  Jew  ; 

Time  and  oft  dreffed  lamb  fafhon  I  zeed  an  old  ewe, 

I  zeed  madam's  monkey  as  fmart  as  her  beau, 

1  i:ecd  beauty,  and  virtue,  that  never  knew  ihr.me, 

And  I  zted  vice  careflcd  under  moaefly'o  name, 

I  zeed  a  line  head  drefs,  worth  more  than  the  head, 

1  zted  folks  with  their  brains  out  before  they  were  dead. 


260         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

I  zeed  rogues  of  their  knavery  making  their  brags, 

And  I  reed  fools  in  coaches,  and  merit  in  rags; 

And  dill  through  the  crowd  as  I  \vhiltlcd  along, 

I  hummed  to  myfclf  the  lag  end  of  a  fong, 

The  good  that  we  wifh  for  mayn't  match  what  we've  got, 

Their  minds  are  their  kingdom,  who're  pleafed  with  their  lot 

And  to  whatever  place  difcontentcd  folks  roam, 

At  laft  they'll  be  forced  to  fay  this  of  their  home, 

Our  friends  are  as  true,  and  our  wives  are  as  comely, 

And  damn  it,  home's  home,  be  it  ever  fo  homely. 

But  what  zickened  me  moft  was,  one  day  in  the  Park, 
As  the  guns  were  all  firing,  a  queer  looking  fpark, 
Cried,  what  nonfenfe   and  fluff  with  their  fufs  and  parade  ; 
Stuff  and  nonfenfc,  faid  I,  Oh  !  what  that  that  you  laid  ? 
Why  they  fire  for  a  viiftory,  and  you  have  your  choice 
To  go  home  or  with  all  hcneft  fubjeds  rejoice  ; 
Mighty  well,  cried  my  fpark,  but  a  word  in  your  car, 
The  affairs  of  the  nation  are  curfedly  queer  ; 
Nay  'tis  true,  we're  done  up,  'twill  be  feen  by  and  by, 
How  much  did  they  give  you  to  catch  me,  faid  I, 
The  country's  a  good  one,  all  good  men  perceive  it, 
And  they  that  don't  like  it,  why  dama't  let  'em  leave  it  ; 
So  I  left  my  queer,  fpark  and  went  whittling  along, 
Then  I  hummed  to  myfelf,  the  fag  end  of  a  fong, 
The'good  that  we  vvifli  for  mayn't  match  what  we've  got, 
Their  minds  are  their  kingdom,  who're  pleafed  with  their  lot  : 
And  to  whatever  place  difcontented  folks  roam, 
At  laft  they'll  be  forced  to  fay  this  of  their  home, 
Our  friends  are  as  true,  and  our  wives  are  as  comely, 
And  danjn  it,  home's  home,  be  it  ever  fo  homely. 


BALLAD  -  IN    GREAT    NEWS. 


KOW  you  fhall  fee  what  you  fliall  fee, 

Lady,  gemmen  come, 
One  very  great    curiofity, 

What  makes  to  fpeak'de  dumb  ; 
Vat  green,  and  red,  and  brown,  and  blue, 

And  black,  and  white  can  paint, 
Yat  make  Je\v  Chri/tian,  Chriftian  Jew, 
Hake  good  come  out  of  evil, 
Vat  make  a  devil  of  a  faint,  and  of  a  faint  a  devil, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         261 

"  Peq>  troo  dat  little  ho'e,  Sir  — Vat  you  fee  there  ?  Eh," 
— '  What  do  you  fay,  matter  Shewman,  it  \viil  make  biack 
white :? — The  devil's  in  it  if  it  won't! — Why  it  is  a  large 
.jnirfe  of  money  !' 

Now  yen  fhall  fee,  vat  you  fee,  fine  ting  before  you  £O, 
Come  gentleman  and  lady  fee  my  Raree  Show, 

Now  you  (lull  fee,  var  you  fhatl  fee, 

Pkafe  to  look  in  there, 
One  very  great   curiofitv, 

Vat  make  (he  people  dare  ; 
One  terrible,    one  liiocking,  ting 

hi  h   rror  dat  abound  ; 
Before  yi/ur  face  I  go  to  bring 

One  horrible  production, 
Look  (jiiick  and  you  fhall  be  furround 
Vid  death,  And  vid  dcftruClion. 

"  Vele  fanr  vat  yon  fee  now?  Eh!" — '  Ah!  mafler  Shew- 
man,  you  be  a  wag — Jeath  and  definition  with  the  devil 
too'l ! — Why  it  be  a  Pothecary's  fliou.' 

Now  yon  iliail  feej  &c. 

Now  yon  fhall  fee  vat  you  {hail  fee, 
P'eafe  to  put  your  eye? ; 
One  very  great  curiolr y, 
Vat  give  you  ^rcat  furprize  ; 
More  {hocking  as  the  toder  iight, 

You  never  have  fee  furh, 
Come  look,  make  hade,  dou't  you  be  flight, 

You  thai!  fee  one  place  fyacious, 
All  till  tip  vid  gre.'t  many  much, 

Strange  animal  voracious. 

"  Why,  mafler  Shewman,  this-he  a  cater  joke  than  the 
tothcr — I  \vifh  I  may  die  if  it  beii't  the  ly.ird  Mayor  and 
Aldermen  at  dinner!" 

Now  you  fhall  fee,  &c. 

Now  you  lliall  fee  vat  yon  fliall  fee, 

Pleal'e  to  look  once  more, 
Vat  give  you  more  delight  and  glee, 

As  all  yon  fee  before; 
Great  pltafure  and  great  blifs  vat  give 

To  all  the  Engliteh  race, 
Vat  make  them  all  fo  happy  live, 

Vat  blcfling  can  impart, 
Vat  make  the  fmile  in  .ill  the  face. 

The  joy  in  all  the  htrrt. 


262         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

"  Ah  !  mafter  Showman,  you  did  never  fay  a  truer  thing 
in  your  life  —  Why,  Lord  love  him,  'tis  the  King's  Majefty." 
Now  you  fhall  fee,  &c. 


BALLAD  —  IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 

I  NEVER  fhall  furvive  it,  cried  Lumkin  in  dcfpair, 
ShtS  gone  and  I  fhall  ever  wail  and  cry, 

I've  loft  my  charming  C.-elia,  the  faired  of  the  fair  : 
Will  no  owe  comfoit  feud  me, 
Why  then  theft  hands  fliall  end  me, 
Hung  by  bis  garter  on  that  tree  I'll  die  ; 

Lpt  none  my  fame  be  mangling, 
While  dangling,  dangling,  d.mgling, 

On  yon  tree  I  die. 
Young  Kitty  of  the  cottage,  and,  Jenny  of  the  mill, 

And  bonny  Suke,  and  i'prighrly  Peggy  Sly, 
And  Fan  and  Nan,  and  Poll  and  Doll,  I  know  will  try  their 
Mil, 

Tricked  out  in  all  their  beauty, 
To  lure  me  from  my  duty  : 
But  I  can  tell  them  they  arc  deceived  —  I'll  die  ! 
Thefe  girls  will  all  be  angling  : 
'1  wont  do  for  dangling,  dangling, 

All  for  love  I'll  dte. 
I  own  that  Kitty's  eye  brows  fomc  trait  of  C.tlia's  bear, 

Suke  has  her  nofc,  and  Peg  her  fparkling  eye  ; 
Both  Fan  and  Nan,  her  dimples,  and  Poll  and  Doll  her  Irair  ; 
But  thefe  {hall  all  be  flighted, 
For  Cslia's  charms  united, 
Not  all  her  fex  combined  can  boaft  —  I'll  die  ! 
Then  let  them  all  lie  wrangling, 
And  pulling  cap*  for  dangling, 

They  fliall  fee  me  die. 
And  yet  on  recollection,  Young  Daelia  formed  to  pleafe, 

Her  dimples  has,  her  hair,  and  fparkling  c.yc  ; 
•  Nay,  Dx'ia  is  like  Cx  ia  as  ever  were  two  peas, 
Has  a  1  thofe  charms  that  won  me, 
Would  flie  take  pity  on  me  ! 
But  lord  fhc'd  never  think  of  me  —  I'll  die  ! 
While  hopes  and  fears  are  jangling, 
I'll  dangling,  dangling,  dandling, 
All  for  Caslia  die. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         263 

'Twixt  hanging,  and  'twixt  marriage,  ftill  doubtful  which  to 

chufe, 

As  Lumkin  paufed,  came  Daelia  tripping  by, 
Ads  wounds,  cried  he,  would' ft  thou  confent,    I'd  tye  the 
other  noofe, 

She  finiles  good  bye  poor  Caslia, 
I  go  to  marry  Daslia, 
Not  in  a  halter,  but  in  her  arms  to  die; 
Better  in  wedlock  wrangling, 
Than  dangling,  dangling,  dangling, 
On  a  tree  to  die. 


BALLAD — IN  WILL  or  THE  WHIST. 


ON  Olympus  blue  fummit  as  loud  vacant  mirth, 

Shook,  with  laughter  the  (ides  of  the  gods, 
Were  not  nectar,  cried  Bacchus,  forbid  fons  of  earth; 

'Twere  rare  fport  to  celeftialize  clods  : 
Say,  fhall  they  a  nectar  polTcis  of  their  own, 

That  like  ours  with  delight  fhall  be  rife  ? 
I've  hit  it,  let  Punch,  by  my  fiat,  be  known, 

A  liquor  the  Symbol  of  Life. 
Of  the  elements  four,  that  the  univerfe  fway, 

Our  nectar  relefHal  we  make, 
So  punch,  that  henceforward  fhall  moiften  man's  clay, 

Of  the  pafhYns  of  man  flial!  partake  : 
The  fwcets  that  from  godlike  benevolence  flow*, 

Shall  correct  the  fliarp  acid  of  ftrife, 
While  the  fpirit  of  rage  temperance  mean  fhall  compofc, 

So  fliall  punch  be  the  Symbol  of  Life. 

Punch  fha!l  be  the  firft  fiddle  in  life's  motley  band, 

That,  untuned,  fcrapes  harfli  difcords  and  hoarfe. 
But  when  fcrewed  to  its  pitch  by  a  maflerly  hand, 

Shall  mofl  excellent  mufic  difcourfe: 
Punch,  unmade,  will  a  chaos  misfhapen  difclofe, 

Rude  atom  with  atom  at  ftrife, 
But,  which  tempered,  to  beauty  and  fymetry  grows, 

Thus,  is  Punch,  the  true  Synvbol  of  Lite. 
When  in  fioth,  life's  xvarm  water,  mankind  are  immcrfcd, 

And  f \vret  luxury's  fought  from  afar, 
Rajje,  and  four  heart  burnings,  by  indolence  nurfed, 

i'!.\ze  in  all  the  dread  fury  of  war  : 


264       DIBDIM'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

But  when  temperate  reflection  takes  rule  in  the  mind, 

Cruel  w.ir  is  difarmed  of  his  knife, 
And  die  bleffings  of  peace  fhed  their  balm  on  mankind; 

And  thus  Punch  i»  the  Symbol  of  Life. 
As  pleafure  on  pieafure  in  wedlock  you  meer, 

If,  thoughtkf  ,  you  furfeit  and  fcc'd, 
Su'Scn,  four  difcontent  fh,  1   corrode  every  fweet, 

And  iuke  warm  indifference  fucceed  : 
But  when  wedlock's  ingredients,  in  mean  true  and  even, 

Are  blended  in  huttiand  and  wife; 
Such  a  pair,  fo  well  mated,  on  earth  find  a  heaven, 

And  thus  Punch  is  the  Symbol  of  Life, 
Thus  in  all  their  concern:-,  fhall  tin's  hquor  divine, 

Some  mora;  infraction  impart, 
That  the  medium  i>f  truth  may  correct  and  rtfine, 

Each  crude  feeling  (hat  fprirgs  from  the  heart  : 
Be  your  livess  then  nor  maukith,  ftrong,four  nor  yet  fweet, 

But  a  mixture  of  all,  to  fhun  friife  ; 
So  menV  joys  fhall  be  next  to  celeflials  complete, 

So  fliail  i'URch  be  the  Symbol  of  Life. 


BALLAD  -  IN    WILL  OF   THE   WISP. 


'TWAS  a  hundred  ye  <rs-  ago, 

Or  therc-about,  I  believe, 

Liv'd  a  wife  you  muft  know, 

As  I  quickly  fha!l  fhcw, 

A  true  bred  daughter  o:  Ev-e  : 

For  this  wife,  though  fpoufe,  was  civil, 

For  fo  the  Itory  rai., 

Was  tempted  to  evil, 

But  not  by  the  devil, 

But  a  devi  ifh  ha:idfonie  young  man. 

This  young  man  was  an  officer  gay, 
With  a  mieufo  milit.iire, 
An  enlign  ..n  hal-pay, 
Though  no  co lone  ,  fome  fay, 
Had  i  '  fierce,  and  fo  noble  an  air  : 
Mow  the  liufbrtnd  had  bin  one  eye, 
And  for  tins  his  crafty  bride, 


' 


SELECTED  SONGS.  265 

Cliofe  him  out  by  the  bye, 

Half  her  faults  to  efpy, 

And  to  catch  him  upon  the  blind  fide. 

The  hufoand  was  gone  from  home, 

She  tricked  out  fmart  and  neat, 

Now  the  officer's  come, 

Cupid  braces  his  drum, 

And  a  parley  is  prefently  beat : 

When  Betty,  who  clofely  watched, 

Cried  out,  as  fhe  come  unawares, 

'  If  a  lie  can't  be  hatched, 

'  We  are  all  of  us  catchecl, 

'  For  my  matter's  a  coming  up  flair.*.' 

Cr'ed  the  wife,  '  I  have  hit  on  it  fure; 

*  Come,  come,  'tis  no  time  to  flinch  ! 

*  We're  from  danger  fccure, 
'  Get  behind  the  door, 

'  Wit  never  left  wife  at  a  pinch  : 
Then  the  hufbaod  came  in  fight  : 
Cried  fhe  in  a  cctmterfeit  fcream, 

*  What  joy  and  delight, 

'  Docs  your  prelence  excite, 

c  Dear  Hufbaud  I  dreamt  a  dream. 

'  A  dream  fo  extraordinary  and  r*rc, 

'  Pray  heaven  it  prove  not  a  lie, 

'  1  dreamt  in  that  chair, 

1  'Tis  as  true  as  you're  there, 

'  That  fate  had  reftored  your  blind  eye: 

Cried  he,  "  What  a  rout,  and  a  pother  :" 

1  Nay,  nay,  at  my  hopes  do  not  fcofF; 

'  The  blind  eye's  like  it$  brother, 

'  Let  me  cover  tother,* 

This  doinf,  the  lover  floJe  off. 

Her  Mars  fafe  retreated,  fhe  cried, 
'  Well  love  is  the  light  wholly  loft  ?' 
"  Yes  wife  yciir  dream  lied, 
"  Though  'till  rloomiday  you  tried, 
"  I  fliould  yet  fee  no  more  than  a  port  :'* 
Then,  the  devil  take  dreams  I  fay, 
For  I'm  more  difappointed  than  yotj,. 
Quoth  the  hufband.nay,  nay, 
When  next  I'm  away, 

Let  u»  hope  all  your  dreams  may  come  true, 
Z 


•266       DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

"<*~"«*~  t^O  t<^)5  0^)*~O..  ••«>•• 

BALLAD — IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 

WHILE  mufic  lends  its  heavenly  art, 

And  banners  are  unfurled, 
Hail,  hail,  the  nrft  commercial  mart, 

Throughout  the  peopled  world  : 
See  its  chief  magiftrates  to  grace 

London  in  pomp  and  fliow, 
The  fource  of  its  great  riches  trace, 

To  all  the  winds  that  blow  : 
The  companies  to  r:!ver  Thames, 

Move  on  in  flow  parade, 
Each  bearing  as  its  banner  names, 

A  pageant  of  its  trade  : 
Then  while  fweet  niufic  lends  its  art, 

And  -banners  are  unfurled, 
Mail,  hail  the  firft  commercial  mart, 

Throughout  the  peopled  world. 
Firft,  minftrelfy  and  loud  acclaim, 

That  fweet  muficians  bring, 
Muficians  of  fair  London's  fame, 

Still  emulous  to  ling  : 
And,  hark!  the  armourers  cleave  the  wind, 

By  one  in  armour  led, 
While  memory  tells  the  patriot  mind, 

At  Agincourt  who  bled  : 
Then,  while  fweet  mufic  lends  its  art, 

.And  banners  are  unfurled., 
Hail,  hail  the  firft  commercial  mart, 

Throughout  the  peopled  world. 
Nor  let  the  fhipwrights  by  us  flip. 

In  high  commercial  fcme 
Pirft  in  the  rank,  for  from  a  fbip 

Fair  Louden  took  its  name  : 
J\Ton-  v.  liilc  the  croud  each  trade  furrouuds, 

That  joy  aiwl  life  fupplies, 

;  where  the  maffy  anvil  founds, 

Sv..: !  where  the  fhuttle  flies  : 
Then,  while  fweet  mufic  lends  its  art, 

And  banners  are  unfurled, 
Hail,  hail  the  firft  commercial  mart, 

Throughout  the  peopled  world. 


r 


IMBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Thefe  fit  with  att  the  even  joint, 

Thole  drefs  the  fupple  fkin, 
Others  th'  induftrious  needle  point, 

Or  decorative  pin: 
Some  flag  of  Blaze  and  drcfs  the  woo!, 

Some  ihape  the  wheels  of  time, 
The  ever  lengthening  wire  fomc  pull, 

Some  teach  the  bells  to  chime  : 
Then,  while  fweet  mufic  lends  its  arf, 

And  banners  are  unfurled, 
Hail,  hail  the  firlt  commercial  mart, 

Throughout  the  peopled  world. 
Thofe,  friendfliiy's  emblem,  bring  the  fquare< 

Thefe  bear  the  gordian  ring, 
And  now,  while  trumpets  rend  the  air, 

And  fweet  muficians  fing, 
Hafte  to  the  feaft  where  while  the  bxnd, 

The  focial  hour  prolong, 
The  loyal  toafl  from  plenty's  hand, 

Relieves  the  loya!  fong: 
Then,  while  fiveet  mufic  lends  its  art. 

And  banners  are  unfurled, 
Hail,  hail  the  firft  commercial  malt, 

Throughout  the  peopled  world. 
Laft  at  the  ball-room  fee  the  lair. 

Each  fair  a  Britifh  toad, 
Lovely  in  charms,  in  virtue  rare, 

Bleft  England's  pride  and  boaft  . 
But  did  I  to  my  theme  give  way, 

By  fancy  led  along, 
Soon  were  the  poet's  teeming  !«ty, 

A  hiftory,  not  a  fbng  : 
Yet  while  fwtet  muiic  lend*  its  art, 

And  banners  are  unfurled, 
Hail,  hail  the  firft  commercial  mart, 

Throughout  the  peopled  world, 


BALLAD  —  IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP, 


IF  lubberly  landfmen  to  gratitude  flrangers, 

Sriil  curfe  their  unfortunate  liars, 
Why  what  would  they  fay,  did  they  try  but  the  <]an<?ar<t 

Encountered  by  true  hearted  tar? : 


268         KJBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONG*. 

If  life's  vc-fiei  they  put  'fore  the  wiml,  or  they  tack  her, 

Or  whether  bound  here,  or  there, 
Give  'em  fca  roora  good  fellowfhip,  grog  and  tobaoker, 

Weil  then  damme  if  Jack  cares  where. 
Then  your  ftupid  Old  Q^iid  Nuncs  to  hear  them  all  clatter, 

The  devil  can't  tell  you  what  for, 
Though  they  don't  know  a  gun  from  a  marlinfpike,  chatter 

About  and  concerning  of  war : 

While  for  King,  wife,  and  friend,  he's  threugh  every  thir.g 
rubbing, 

With  duty  ftill  proud  to  comply, 
So  he  give?  but  the  fof  s  of  Old  England  a  drubbing, 

Why  then,  damme,  if  Jack  cares  why. 
And  then  when  good  fortune  has  crowned  his  endeavours, 

And  he  comes  home  with  fhiners  galore, 
Well  what  if  fo  be  he  fliould  lavilli  his  favour?, 

On  every  poor  objedl  long-fliore  : 
Since  money's  the  needle  that  puin'.s  to  good  nature, 

Friend,  enemy,  falfe  or  true, 
So  it  goes  to  relieve  a  diftrefled  fellow  creature, 

Well  then,  damme,  if  Jack  cares  who. 
Don't  you  fee  how  fome  different  thing  ev'ry  one's  twigging* 

To  take  the  command  of  a  rib, 
Some  are  all  for  the  bread-work,  and  fome  for  the  rigging 

And  fome  for  the  cut  of  her  jib, 
Though  poor,  fome  will  take  her  in  tow  to  defend  her, 

And  again,  fome  are  ail  for  the  rich; 
A»  to  I,  !o  lilt's  young,  her  heart  honed  and  tender, 

Why  then,  damme,  it  J^ck  cares  which. 
Why  now  if  they  go  for  to  talk  about  living, 

My  eves — why  a  little  will  fervr, 
Let  each  a  fma  1  part  of  his  pittance  be  giving, 

And  who  in  this  nation  can  ftarve  ? 
Content'.-  all  the  thing — rough  or  calm  be  the  weAther, 

T  he  wind  on  the  beam  or  the  bow, 
So,  hoiuftly,  he  can  fplire  both  ciicK  together, 

Why  then,  damme  if  Jack  cares  how. 

•  And  then  for  a  bring  up — d'ye  fee,  about  dyin° 

On  which  fueh  a  racket  they  keep, 
What  argufies  if  ia  a  church  yard  you'r  lying, 

Or  find  out  your  grave  in  the  deep  : 
Of  one  thing  we're  certain,  whatever  our  calling, 
J5cath  wiU  bri/ig  us  all  up — ar.d  what  then  ? 


SELECTED    SONGS.  269 

So  his  confcieuce's  tackle  will  bear  overhauling, 
Why  then,  danun:,  it  Jack  cares  when. 


BALLAD  —  IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 


)S'T  my  country  you'd  know  ?  I'm  an  an  Irifhman  born,. 

And  they  chrittened  me  Paddy  O'Blarney, 
In  haymaking  time  I  ftept  over  one  morn, 

All  the  way  from  the  Lakes  of  Kilarney  : 

Turn'd  my  hand  to  juft  whatever  came  in  my  way, 

To  be  fure  while  the  fun  fhin'd  I  did  not  make  hay. 

Well  then  you   know  the   w  ives   and  daughters   of  thf 
farmers  won't — wtH  they  won't 
Hare  plenty  cf  caufc  to  remember  the  day,. 
When  firft  they  faw  Paddy  O'Blarney. 
Then  what  docs  I  do  the  next  calling  I  feeks, 

Ah !  the  v.orld  for  the  Lakes  of  Kilarney, 
I  cries  mackeral  alive  that  were  caught  for  three  weeks, 

Ah  !  let  alone  Paddy  O'Blarney, 

Then  frefli  gathered  ftra wherries,  i'o  found  and  fo  fweef, 
With  juft  half  a  dozen  a  top  fit  to  eat — 

*  Ah  !  madam,  you  need  not  examine  them  blefs  your  tw^ 
j»ood  looking  eyes,  they  are  full  to  the  bottom,  paper  and  all.r 
'  Well,  I'll  trail  to  you — I  dare  fay  you  won't  cheat  me." 
So  1  coaxes  her  up,  and  herfelf  makes  her  cheat, 
Ah  !  fait  let  alone  Paddy  O'Blarney. 

Next  I  turned  to  a  chairman,  and  got  a  good  jobj 

Ah  !  the  world  fur  the  Lakes  of  Kilarney, 
1  harangued  at  a  famous  election  the  mob., 

Ah  !  let  alone  Paddy  O'Blarney. 
Then  to  fee  how  his  honour  and  I  did  cajole, 
)Je  knock'd  down  his  flats  with  words,  and  I  mine  with  my 
pole — 

Then  you   know   whe'n  they  came  to  chair  him,  I  was  ne 
longer,  you  fee,  an  odd  man,  there  was  a  pair  of  chairmen. 
And  fure  fuch  a  pair  was  ne'er  feen,  by  my  foul, 
As  his  honour  and  Paddy  O'Blarney. 
JBut  this  notion  cf  greatncfs  xvas  none  of  the  worfr, 

Oh  !    the  world  for  the  Lakes  of  Kilarney, 
Having  played  fecond fiddle,  !  thought  I'd  play  firfi? 

Can't  ye  let  alone  Paddy  O'l]i,;i  i;e-v  , 

Z  2 

* 


'2~/0  i)iii!31i<i  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

So,  fv.-oat!:)?,  to  plunder,  and  never  to  fquer.k, 
I  my  qualification  took  out  and  turned  greek  — 

Ah  :   to  he  fure  we  did  not  make  a  pretty  dovehoufe  of  our 
Pharoah    Ba»;k  —  Let    r,v   ice,   we   pigeoned,   aye  fait   and 
plucked  them  completely  too  — 
F  iuf  tr.tdcfTien,  and  fix  banker's  clerks  in  one  week, 
Will  you  let  alone  Paddy  O'Blarncy. 
A  big  man  in  a!l  circles  fo  gay  and  polite, 

.Ah  !  the  world  for  the  Lakes  of  Kilarney, 
I  f'/unJ  one  who  larnt  grown  up  jolman  to  write, 

Jnft  to  fiuiih  gay  Paddy  O'Blarney  : 
I  fiift  larnt  my  name,  'till  fo  fond  of  it  grown, 
I'd  dun't  fay  I'dbet:er  have  let  it  alone  — 

B-.it  by  my  foul  and  conference  it  had  like  to  have  finiflicd 
*ie  in  good  earneft,  for  you  fee,  I  juft  wrote  — 
Ano'hcr  jolman's  fign^.ture  'fLad  of  my  own, 
What  a  devil  of  a  Paddy  O  Blarney. 

But  fince  fate  did  not  chufe  for  to  noofe  me  that  day, 

Ah  !  the  world  for  the  Lakes  of  Kilarney, 
With  a  Venus  ef  ninety  I  next  ran  away, 

What  a  fine  dafhing  Paddy  O'i;laruey. 
So  marriage  turned  out  the  beft  noofe  of  the  two, 
'I  he  old  foul's  gone  to  heaven  I'm  as  rich  as  a  Jew  — 

So  that  if  any  jolman  lias  an  occaGon  for  a  friend,  or  a 
lady  for  a  lover,  or,  in  fliort,  if  any  body  ihould  \\ifh  to  be 
disencumbered  of  the  uneafinefs  of  a  wife,  or  a  daughter,  or 
a  purfe,  or  any  Inch  kind  and  civil  fervice  that  can  be  per 
formed 

By  a  gentleman  at  large  that  has  nothing  to  do, 
let  me  recommend  Paddy  O'Blarney. 


BALLAD  —  IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP, 


'TWAS  port  meridian,  half  paft  four, 

By  fignal  1  from  Nancy  parted, 
At  fix  flie  lingered  on  the  fhore, 

With  uplift  hands  and  broken  hearted, 
At  fev'n,  while  taughtening  the  foreftay, 

I  faw  her  faint,  or  elfe  'twas  fancy, 
At  eight  we  all  g<  t  under  weigh, 

And  bid  A  IUB^  adieu  to  Nancy. 


DIBDIN  S   SELECTED   SONGS,  27! 

Night  came,  and  now  eight  hells  had  rung, 

While  care'efs  failors,  ever  cheary, 
On  the  mid  watch  fo  jovial  fung, 

With  tempers  labour  cannot  weary  : 
It  little  to  their  mirth  inclined, 

While  tender  thoughts  rufhcd  on  my  fancy, 
And  my  warm  fighs  incrcafed  the  wind, 

Looked  on  the  moon,  and  thought  of  Nancy,. 
And  now  arrived  that  jovial  night, 

When  every  true  bred  tar  caroufes, 
When,  o'er  the  grog,al'  hands  delight 

To  toaft  their  fwtethearts  and  their  fpoufes  : 
Round  went  the  can,  the  jcft,  ti-ie  glee, 

While  tender  wiihes  filled  each  fancy, 
And  when,  in  turn,  it  came  to  me, 

I  heaved  a  l~)gh,  and  toafted  Nancy. 
Next  morn  a  ftorm  came  on  at  four, 

At  fix,  the  elements  in  motion, 
Plunged  me  and  three  poor  failors  more, 

Headlong  within  the  foaming  ocean  : 
Poor  wretches  !  they  foon  found  their  graves, 

For'me,  it  may  he  only  fancy, 
But  lovefecmed  to  forbid  the  waves, 

To  fnatch  me  from  the  arms  of  Nancy. 

Scarce  the  foul  hurricane  was  cleared, 

Scarce  wine's  and  waves  had  ceafed  to  rattle, 
When  a  boldentiny  appeared, 

And,  danutlelV,  we  prepared  for  battle  t 
And  now,  while  fome  loved  friend,  or  wife, 

Like  lightning,  rufhed  on  every  fancy  ; 
To  providence  1  trufhd  life, 

Put  up  a  prayer,   and  thought  of  Nancy. 
At  laflr,  'twas  in  the  month  of  May, 

The  crew,  it  being  lovely  weather, 
At  three  A.  M  difcovertd  day, 

And  Kngland's  chalky  cliffs  together: 
At  feven  up  channel  how  \ve  bore, 

While  hopes  and  fears  rufhed  on  my  fancy, 
At  twelve  I  gay'v  jumped  afhorc, 

And  to  r.iy  throbbing  heart  nrcfled  Nancy, 


£72-         UiBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS» 

••<>««  ••<>••  <35><3^<Sst> "«>•••  -««H« 

BALLAD — IN  WILL  OF  THE 


LIFE'S  as  like  as  can  be  to  an  Irifh  Wake, 
Where  their  tapeis  they  light, 
And  they  fit  up  all  night, 

Wid  their  why  would  you  leave  your  poor  Paddy  to  moan,. 
Arrah  how  could  you  be  fuch  a  cake  ? 
Mufha  what  will  I  do, 
Lilly,  HI! y.lilty,  la  loo, 
Oh  hone ! 

Fait  we're  left  all  together  alone  : 
But  when  the  grief  the  liquor  puts  out,  the  fun  is  all  chang'a. 

in  a  crack  ; 

Away  like  fmoke  goes  the  whifkey  about, 
And  they  foot  it,  crofs  over,  and  back  to  back, 

With  their  tiptelery,  whack, 
Poor  mils,  bolted  fafe  wid  a  good  lock  and  key, 
Like  Thifbe,  may  call 
Through  the  hole  in  the  wall, 
How  hard's  my  misfortune,  I'm  left  here  to  moan,. 
Will  no  one  take  pity  on  me  ? 
Mufha,  what  will  I  do. 
Lilly,  lilly,.  lilly,  la  loo, 
Oh  hone ! 

I  fliall  after  be  lying  alone. 
But  when  the  rope  ladder  affords  her  relic'',. 
And  flie  turns  on  her  mother  her  back ; 
'Mong  her  friends  and  relations,  (he  leaves  ail  her  grief; 
And  away  to  Scotland  they  trip  in  a  crack, 
With  their  tiptelary  whack. 

The  toper,  next  morning,  low,  fick,  and  in  pain, 

The  glades  all  breaks. 

Beats  his  head  'caufe  it  aches, 
And  wiflie*  that  wine  may  to  poifon  be  grown^ 

If  e'er  he  gets  tipfe.y  again  : 

With  his  what  will  I  do, 

Lilly,  lilly,  lilly,  la  loo, 

Oh  hone  f 

From  this  moment  I'll  drinking  difown  ; 
But  when,  in  a  poffee,  come  Bacchus's  troop^, 
He  changes  his  tone  in  a  crack; 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         273 

They  drink,  and  they  fing,  and  they  hollow,  and  whoop, 
Till  they  don't  know  the  colour  of  blue  from  black, 
And  its  tiptelaty  vvhnck. 

And  fo  'ti>  through  lilt,  widows  left  in  the  nick, 

Dying  fvvains  in  difgracc, 

Patriots  turned  out  ofplr.ce, 
Don't  they,  cuffing  their  fUrs,  make  a  horrible  moan, 

Jufl  like  when  the  devil  was  lick? 

Wid  their  what  will  I  do, 

Lilly,  lilly,  lilly,  la  loo, 

Oli  hone  ! 

Fait  we're  left  all  to  grunt  and  to  groan  : 
But  when  the  widow  gets  married  again, 

When  the  lover  is  taken  back, 
When  the  patriot  ciufted  a  place  fhall  obtain, 
Away  to  the  devil  goes  care  in  a  crack, 

And  'tis  tiptelary  whack. 


BALLAD—IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP.. 


THE  gloomy  night  ftaik'd  flow  away, 
The  twilight  fpoke  the  doubtful  day, 
When  on  a  rock  poor  Peg  rcc.ined, 
Mad  as  the  wave?,  wild  as  the  wind. 
Give  me  my  love,  flic  frantic  fcream'd, 
1  faw  his  ghoft  as  by  it  glcam'd, 
I'll  dive,  1'il  fearch  the  briny  gloom, 
And  fnatch  him  from  his  coral  tomb  r 
Ah  !  let  me,  fate,  his  relics  1'avt, 
True  lover*  fhouid  find  out  one  grave, 

And  now  the  tcmpeft  dims  the  fky, 

How  many  ways  poor  Jailors-  die  ! 

See,  fee,  the  flapgering  veflel  fplits, 

She's  loft,  liks  Peg's  poor  Shipwrecked  wits 

Ko,  'twas  in  battle  that  he  died; 

\Vouid  no  power  turn  the  ball  afide  ? 

I  faw  it  as  it  rent  his  heart, 

I  heard  him  cry — and  nuift  we  part? 

For  Peggy,  ah  !  thefe  relics  fave, 

Trne  lovers  iliuukl  find  out  oae  gnve^ 


274  DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONCTS, 

Whei  e  on  the  deep  the  cavern  yawned, 

Now  as  the  purple  morning  dawned. 

The  furge,  in  breakers  loud  and  hoarfe, 

Her  love  caft  up  a  lifelefg  corfe  : 

She  raves,  flu  (cream*,  her  hands  flic  wring*, 

The  fliock  returning  regfon  brings, 

Reaibn  returns,  alaa  !  too  lute, 

She  clafpg  her  lore  and  yields  to  fate : 

Their  mourning  friends  their  relics  favc, 

And  tlicfe  true  lover*  find  one  grave. 


BALLAD — IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 

THE  world  flill  judges  by  the  mien, 

For  habit  holds  the  yellow  glafs, 
And  through  that  jaundiced  medium  feen, 

Shall  wifdom's  felf  for  folly  pafs. 
^Tis  not  beraufe  you  vapid  fmart, 

Strays,  carelefsly,  from  reafon's  rules, 
That  he  hates  reaion.  has  no  heart, 

'Tis  that  he's  one  of  fafhion's  fools. 
The  toper,  o'er  the  bowl,  his  joke 

Who  vents  againft  his  deareft  friends, 
Next  morn  would  fain  the  bowl  were  broke, 

And  he'd  been  dumb  to  make  amends : 
For  honour  wtll  his  heart  can  touch, 

He  well  knows  golden  friendfhip's  rules, 
J*is  fault  is  that  he  drinks  too  much, 

And  thus  he's  one  of  fafhiou's  fools. 
The  Bouncer  fvvears  that  brown  is  blue, 

And  moulds  at  wi:I  dame  nature's  law, 
And  ti>lks  of  joys  he  never  knew, 

And  fancier  charms  he  never  law  : 
'Vis-  not  that  he  would  fain  renounce 

Fair  truth  and  all  her  facred  rules, 
But  'tis  that  its  genteel  to  bounce, 

And  thus  he's  one  of  fafliion's  fools. 
11  merit  pine  away  forgot, 

If  rake;  at  facred  honour  fneer, 
if  wedlock  prove  no  gordian  knotx 

And  lovers  dread  to  be  fcvere  . 


S  SELECTED  SONGS.         275 

'Tis  not  that  men  fo  much  delight 

To  deviate  from  honour's  rules, 
But  that  its  vulgar  to  be  right, 

And  thus  tiiey  are  all  fafhion's  fool*. 
Say  what  conclufion's  to  be  drawn  ? 

Are  we  to  fancy,  or  to  feel, 
To  live  awake,  or  in  a  yawn, 

To  be  confident  or  genteel" 
Soon  the  elevilion  may  be  made  — 

Let's  fquare  our  lives  by  reafon's  rules, 
So  far  be  fafhion's  modes  obeyed, 

But  let  us  not  be  fafhien's  fools.       ^ 


BALLAD  —  IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP* 


I'M  a  cook  for  the  public,  can  fuite  every  palate, 

With  fome   favory  bonne  bouche,  from  the   foup    to  the 

fall  ad, 

.Are  you  partial  to  fifli  ?  I've  for  dunces,  cod's  joles, 
Carp,  and  crab?,  for  plain  dealers,  for  topers  good  io^es  r 
I  thought  I'd  fome  maids,  but  I  made  a  miftake, 
Tve  a  rich  liquorifh  old  wife  for  any  poor  rake, 
I've  a  plaife  for  a  courtier,  for  jokers  I've  g.'i^s, 
I've  gudgeons  for  quacks,  and  I've  flounder.-,  for  leagues, 
Coming,  coming,  you'll  fee  that  I've  told  yon  no  fable, 
This  way,  if  you  pltafc  gemmen,  dinner's  on  the  table. 
I've  fome  fine  devilltd  lawyers,  fome  finners  difguifed, 
Same  patriots  ftewed,  and  fome  generals  furprize'l  ; 
Then,  if  cayenne  you  love,  and  would  willi  fomething  nice, 
Lord,  I'll  roaft  you  a  a  nabob,  dear  fir,  in  a  trice, 
Then  for   fops,  who  to  make   therms! ves  fools   take  fuch 

pains, 
I've   a   fine  thick   calf's  head,  with   the   tongue   and   the 

brains  ; 

I've  mufhrooms  for  upflarts,  for  Welflimen  I've  leeks, 
Ducks  and  drakes  for  ftock  jobbers,  and  pigeons  far  greeks  : 
Coming,  coming,  you'll  fee  that  I've  told  you  no  fable, 
This  way,  if  you  pleafc  gemmen,  dinner's  on  the  table. 
And  then  the  defert,  1  have  all  forts  of  cakes, 
I've  illands  of  moonfliine,  iu  fylabub  lakes, 
I've  a%  for  ill  nature,  I've  raiGnsin  gluts, 


276         DJBDIN'S  SELECTED  SON-OS. 

And  rhen,  for  all  thofe  fond  of  fecret?,  I've  nuts, 

Such  as  through  fafhion's  maze  pafs  their  lives  in   a    dream, 

May  ikken  on  irifles,  and  ice,  and  \vhipt  cream. 

Vain  cexcomhs  on  flummery  may  fcafl  till  they  byrft, 

Then  I've  got  for  your  true  fnarling  cri;ic  a  cruft  : 

Coming,  coming,  you'll  fee  that  I  hav  '  :c,\d  you  no  fable, 

1'his  way,  if  you  pleafegemmen,  di>M  cr'son  table. 


BALLAD  —  IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 


YOU  have  heard  of  the  man  who  fuch  virtues  po-Tefled, 

That  he  wifhcd  a  glafs  window  were  placed  at  his  breaft- 

To  the  world  all  his  aiflions  as  pLiin  to  d'fplay, 

As  the  nofe  in  your  fac,r,  "r  the  fun  at  noon  day. 

So  I  put  on  my  fpe«5taclts,  look  mighty  wife, 

And  read  in  a  trice  peoples  hearts  through  their  eyes; 

While  the  catalogue,  large,  of  their  whims  I  run  over, 

Ami  oi  life's  morly  crew  the  deceptions  difco.er, 

Though  my  queftions  are  malapropos  and  uncouth, 

I,  in  fight  of  their  teeth,  make  their  tongues  to  tell  truth. 

When  a  flirting  coquette  for  frefli  conquefh  agog, 

One  who  lovts  and  adores  her  treats  worfe  than  a  dog, 

Gives  him  rivals  flie  hates,  appears  vex'd  when  flic's  glad, 

For  the  dear  harmlefc  pleafuie  of  making  him  mad  ; 

I  put  on  my  fpcctacles,  look  mighty  wife, 

Read  her  \vhimfical  heart  through  'ier  beautiful  eyes, 

As  you  hope  to  be  married,  ma'a-.i:,  quick  anfwcr  me, 

Do  you  hate  this  man  !   Lord  what  a  creature,  cries  the, 

Muft  I  then  be  fineere  !  Well,  I  love  the  fweet  youth, 

As  <iear  as  my  life,  (ir,  and  now  you've  the  tiuth. 

To  follow  up  next  the  coquette  with  the  prude, 

Who  pretends  every  man  that  regards  her  is  rude, 

Who  can't  abicle  flirts,  rails  at  each  amorous  e'f, 

Who  flirts  never,  exccpts  in  a  corner,  herfe'f: 

I  put  ou  niv  fpe&acles,  look  mighty  wife, 

Read  her  \v   rm  yielding  heait  through  her  cold  frigid  eye*  ; 

'  Are  you  this  man  hater,  good  ina'arn,  you  pretend  ?' 

"  And    pr?.y  who   gave  you  leave   to  fchoo!   me   my  coo4 

friend  ?" 

"  D'ye  expe'>  I  fliali  own  that  I've  yet  a  coVs  tooth  : 
"  Well  I  do  love  young  follow,  ai.d  that  is  the  truth." 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS.  2/7 

I  could  in  (lance  a  thoufand  things,  various  and  true, 
AVhere  one  thing  men  fay,  and  another  thing  do, 
Nay,  I  now  could  difpel  all  my  own  anxious  fear, 
But  there's  uo  occafion  for  fpeclacles  here  : 
Nay,  were  I  to  wear  them,  to  look  ere  fo  wife, 
I  cr  uld  then,  but  as  now,  read  your  hearts  in  your  eyes  ; 
Mifler  Dibdin,  fays  you,  we're  here  on  your  behalf, 
And,  while  your  wit's  harmlefs,  and  you  make  us  laugh, 
You  may  banifli  each  fear  from  your  mind,  for,  in  footh, 
We  fhall  \viliing  applaud  you,  and  that  is  the  truth. 


BALLAD  —  IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 


NO  more  of  waves  and  winds  the  fport, 

Our  veffel  is  arrived  in  port  ; 

At  anchor  fee  fhe  fafely  rides, 

And  gay  red  ropes  adorn  her  fides  : 

The  fails  are  furled,  the  fliccts  belayed, 

The  crimfon  peticoats  dif played, 

Defertcd  are  the  ufelefs  fhrouds; 

And  wenches  come  a  board  in  crouds. 

Then  come,  my  lads,  the  flip  put  round, 

While  faiely  moored  on  Englitli  ground, 

With  a  jorum  of  diddle, 

A  lafs,  and  a  fiddle, 

Ne'er  fhall  care  in  the  heart  of  a  tar  be  found 

And,  while  upon  the  hollow  deck, 

To  the  fprightly  jig  our  feet  fliall  bound, 
Take  each  his  charmer  round  the  neck, 

And  kifs  in  time  to  the  merry  found. 
Bcfs  hears  the  death  of  honeft  Jack,    ' 
Who  fwore  he'd  fafe,  and  found,  come  back, 
She  caH:i  him  fcurvy,  lying  fwab, 
And  then  (lie  kind.y  takes  to  Bob  : 
Ben  aiks  the  news  of  Bonny  Kate, 
Who  faid  ihc'd  prove  a  condant  mate, 
But  winds,  and  girls,  are  falfe,  for  fhe 
Took  \Ted  the  morn  Ben  went  to  fca. 
Well  come,  fays  Ben,  the  flip  put  round, 
While  faiely  moored  on  iJvdilli  ground, 
With  a  jorum  of  diddle, 
A  lafs,  and  a  fiddle 

A  A 


.278         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SON-GS. 

Ne'er  fliall  care  in  the  heart  of  a  tar  be  found  ; 
And,  while  upon  the  hollow  deck, 

To  the  fprightly  lig  our  feet  fliall  bound, 
Take  each,  his  charmer  round  the  neck, 

And  kifs  in  time  to  the  merry  found. 

By  will  and  power,  when  laft  afliorc, 
His  rhino  Tom  to  Poll  made  o'er; 
Poll  touched  the  prize  money,  and  pay, 
And  with  the  agent  ran  away  : 
And  Jenny  jufl  as  cute  a  trick, 
His  back  once  turned,  played  whiffling  Dick, 
Dick  left  her  cloathes  to  cut  a  flafh, 
She  fold  'cm  all  and  {pent  the  cadi. 
.Rut  conic,  fays  Dick,  the  flip  put  round, 
While  falcly  moored  on  Englifh  ground, 
With  a  jorum  of  diddle, 
A  lafs,  and  a  fiddle, 

Ne'er  fhall  care  in  the  heart  of  a  tar  be  found; 
And,  while  upon  the  hollow  deck, 

To  the  fprightly  jig  our  feet  fhall  bound, 
Take  eacli  his  charmer  round  the  neck, 

And  kifs  in  time  to  the  merry  found. 
While  feet  and  tongues,  like  lightning  go, 
With — what  cheer  Suke — and  how  do  Joe, 
"Hick  Laniard  chufes  Peg  fo  fpruce, 
And  buxoni  Ntll  take  Kit  Caboofe. 
Thus,  'mongft  the  girls  they  left  behind, 
A  lot  of  true  and  falfe  they  find, 
While  they  bewail  thofe  fhot,  or  drowned, 
And  welcome  home  the  f;ife  and  found, 
Still  thankful  whi'e  the  flip  «oes  round, 
They're  fafely  moored  on  Englifh  ground, 
With  a  jorum  of  diddle, 
A  lafs  and  a  fiJdle, 

Ne'er  fha!)  care  in  the  heart  of  a  tar  be  found; 
And,  while  upon  the  hollow  deck, 

To  the  fpright  y  jig  our  feet  fhall  hound, 
Take  each  his  charmer  round  the  necV:, 

An.i  kifs  in  time  to  the  merry  found. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         279 

..<  .«  ..< •••<  «£>  •S><S5»«  >">••>••>'• 

BALLAD — IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 


I  AM  one  of  thofe  pretty,  tonifli  fmarts,  my  good  old  mao. 
Who  under  love's  fwcet  contribution  lay  ail  the  fair  O, 

I  make  them  die,  and  figh, 

And  confent,  and  repent, 

Wit  ha  ran, dan, dan — 

Why  I  h.ive  a  hundred  times  had  the  felicity,  fo  fvveet, 
Of  feeing  fume  yielding  eafy  daughter,  or  wife, 
Begging,  and' imploring  at  my  feet — • 

'*  Hey,  fir  !   how  often  did  you  fay  you  had  this  felicity  ?" 
'  Never  in  the  whc'.e  courfe  of  my  ii.'-'3 

\\'ith  a  ran,  dan,  dafe  O.' 

Then;  fines  amours  are  nothing  without  confident*,  rny  good 

old  man, 
How  oft  when   hurfting  with   good  fortune  and  fir.eefs,  fo 

rare  O, 

Have    I,  to   my  friends,  told  fkories  of  yielding   nieces,  and- 
aunts, 

With  a  ran.  dan,  dan, 
DrefTed  out  in  all  their  iacinating  charms, 

With  all  their  fimpcrings,  and  \vhimperings, 
Their  fond  love  to  clifguife, 
While  they  were  longing  to  fly  to  my  arms — 
'*  And  peay  was  all  this  truth  that  you  told  your  friends f' 
'  Oh,  no,  a  parcel  of  infernal  lies  ! 
With  a  ran,  dan,  dare  ().' 

Why  would  you    believe    that    with   the   lovely   JlyrtiUa  it 

chanced  to  hap,  my  good  old  man, 
Who  fcemcd  as  if  all  the   powers  of  virtue  made  her   their 

care  O, 

That  1  fhould  contrive,  while  thofe  pretty,  watchful  guanli- 
ans  were  taking  a  nap, 

With  a  ran,  dan,  clan — 

To  kneel,  pant,  entreat,  implore,  heave  figh,  dart  tear, 
And  addrefs,  with  all  the  force  of  eloquence  and  grace, 
Tiil  (truggling  in  my  arms  at  laft  flic — Oh  dear  ! 
"  Well,  what  did  file  do? 
'  Why  gave  me  a  flap  in  the  face, 
With  a  ran,  dan,  dare  O.' 


280         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 
\ 

Another  time,  when  I  was  flatly  refufed,  my  mod  old  maa, 
Oh,  'tis  a  bufinefs  that  \viii  make  you  ftare  O  ! 
Everyone  of  the  family  round  i  taiily  abufed, 

With  a  ran,  >"an,  dan  —  . 

Hamflrung  the  pigs,  pulled  the  fpiggot  out  of  the  ale, 
ftafonctl  the.  lap  dog,  killed  the  canary  birds,  put  jalap  in 

the  tea, 
Threw  ihe  cat  out  of  the  window,  cut  offthe  monkey's  tail— 

"  Go  on,  fir,  go  on." 

'  Kicked  the  hufband—  Oh  no,  d:rnme,hc  kicked  me  ! 
With  i  ran,  dan,  dare  O.' 


BALLAD  —  IN  WILL  OF  THE  \VISP. 


I'VE  heard*  cried  out  one,  that  you  tsrs  tack  and  lack, 

you  faid 


And,  at  fea,  what  /trange  hardships  befcl  you, 
Hut    I    don't    know    vvhai's   moorings — what  don't 
r Jack, 

Man  your  ear  Tackle  then  and  I'll  tell  you  : 
Suppofe  you'd  a  daughter  quite  beautiful  grown, 

And,  in  fpight  of  her  prayers  and  imploring!  ! 
Soinc  fcoundrcl  ahufed  her,  and  you  knocked  him  down, 

Why,  d'ye  fee,  he'd  be  fate  at  his  moorings. 

In  life's  voyage  fhould  youtrufba  falfe  friend  with  the  helm, 

The  top  lifts  of  his  heart  all  akimbo, 
A  tempeft  of  treachery  your  baric  will  o'envhelm, 

And  your  moorings  will  foon  be  in  limbo  : 
Cut  if  h;s  heart's  timbers  bear  up  a'gainft  pelf, 

^'.ic'  lie's  jufl  in  his  reckonings  and  fcorings; 
Ke'l!  for  you  keep  a  look  out  the  fame  as  himfelf, 
And  you'll  find  in  his  fricndlTiip  fafe  moorings. 

If  wedlock's  your  port,  and  your  mate  true  and  kind, 

In  a'l  weathers  will  Rick  to  her  duty, 
A  calm  of  contentment  fhall  boam  in  your  mind, 

Safe  rr.oorcd  in  the  haven  of  beauty  : 
But  if  fome  frifky  fkiff,  crank  at  every  joint, 

That  likens  to  vows  und  adorings, 

Shape  your  courfe  how  you  will,  ftill  you'll  make  Cuckold's 
Point, 

To  lay  up  like  a  beacon  at  moorings. 
A  glutton's  fafe  moored,  head  and  ftern,  by  the  gout, 

A  drunkard's  moored  under  the  table, 


IHBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       c 

In  ftraws  drowning  men  will  Hope's  anchor  find  out, 

Wliile  a  hair's  a  phiioibpers  cable  : 
Thin  mankind  are  a  lliip,  life  a  boifterous  main, 

Of  I'  tte's  billows  where  all  hearthe  roarings, 
Where  for  one  calm  of  pleafure,  we've  ten  ftorms  of  pain, 

Till  death  brings  us  all  to  our  moorings. 

BALLAD — IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 


LOOK  all  over  the  world,  round  and  fquare,  and  through 
out, 

We  a  1  know  that  heft  we  know  nothing  about, 
Don't  ignorant  gipfics  prttend  to  teach  Fate, 
And  pray  who  now  like  coblers  can  tinker  the  ftate  : 
Blind  as  milUpofts  ourfclvcs  we  can  all  guide  a  friend, 
!'  ;      f    why  'tis  in  ore  eafy  to  find  fault  than  mend  ; 
In  thtift  no  fwect  creatures  Icadfuch  happy  lives, 
Or  arc  half  fo  well  managed  as  bachelor's  wives. 

If  I'd  tin's  man's  fortune,  or  tother  man's  wit, 
Unnoticed  d'ye  think  I'd  fo  quietly  Tit  ? 
No,  my  cafh  fhonld  do  good,  and  my  writings  fhould  be, 
Ah  !  fait  Sbakefpear  hnnfelf  fliouhl  be  nothing  to  me  : 
Thus  we  all  to  mend  merit  of  others  are  prone, 
And  how  nobly  we  fpend  tliat  that's  none  of  our  own  ; 
Who  the  reins  has  nut  got,  al-.vsys  furioufly  drives, 
And,  thus,  none  are  managed  like  bacchlor's  wives. 
That  battle  that  made  fuch  a  devii  of  a  rout, 
Why  don't  you  and  I  know  they  were  all  of  them  out  ? 
Had  this  general  advanced,  and  that  troop  come  in  play, 
'  1'would  have  bed),  by  my  conference,  a  glorious  day  ! 
Thus  at  home,  Wi  befl  know  how  abroad  matters  p:d'=, 
Ah  !  give  me  a  brave  bottle  fought  over  the  g'afs  ! 
Threatened  people  live  long,  and  the  envied  man  thrives, 
Jufl  as  none  r.re  fo  managed  as  bachdor'-s  wives. 
What  we  have  we  don't  v.-r.nt,  bccar.fe  why  dat  >vtS'e  get  • 
Your  true  flyieof  enjoyment's  to  li  :ve  what  you've  not, 
What  eats  fo  delicious  as  fifli  not  yet  catchtd, 
Or  as  fruit  in  the  blolTom,  or  chicken  not  hatched  ? 
•Tent  the  dinner  to-day,  'tis  the  pleafure  I  bom.w, 
While  I  ih'nk  on  the  dinner  I'm  eating  to-morrcvv, 
What's  ihe  prefent  my  foul  till  the  future  arrives  ? 
Arrah  give  me  for  managctr.cm  l;acheiors  wives. 
A  a  z 


252  DIBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

To  do  what  we're  able's  a  thing  fo  abfurd, 

.Arrah  who'd  walk  on  foot  that  cou  d  fly  like  a  bird  ? 

Don't  we  fee  every  moment  that  lordly  ting  man 

Do  each  nonlenfe  in  nature  except  what  he  can 

In  fhorr,  eur  de fires  look  from  Ireland  to  Rome, 

•\re  the  harveit  that's  growing,  the  cloth  in  the  loom, 

'I  he  honey  we've  taken  before  we've  bought  hives, 

And  who'll  after  this  rail  at  bachelors  wives. 


BALLAD — IN   WILL   OF   THE    WISP. 

THIi  poet  fays  that  love's  like  fire, 

Which  kindly  heat  and  joy  imparts, 
Tor  every  purpofe,  and  deiire, 

That  warms,  and  that  expands  our  hearts} 
.out,  trnft  th's  lire,  where  is  the  hound, 

That  fhail'its  devaluation  fir.y  ? 
^Rclent'.cfs  ruin  flalks  around, 

And  horror  marks  its  track'efs  way  : 
Thus  both  we  dread,  and  both  admire, 

Thus  poet*  fay  that  love's  like  fire. 
The  toper  fays,  that  love's  like  wine, 

And  that  its  power,  'hove  human  ken,  , 
Can  lift  the  foul,  and  fo  refine 

Our  joys,  that  gods  rr.i^ht  envy  men  : 
But,  from  this  elevation  funk, 

The  moment  reafon  leaves  the  feaf>, 
]i;~  iodfhip  finds  a  god,  when  drunk, 

Is  little  better  than  a  be,-?!  : 
Thus  both  are  beaftly,  both  divine, 
Thus  topers  fay  that  love's  like  wine. 
Your  fportfmen  fay,  love's  like  the  chafe 

That  ieads  us  many  a  weary  mile, 
Through  many  a  rude  and  dangerous  place, 

O'er  mound,  and  hedge,  and  ditch,  and  ftile 
liu:  v.hen  his  pieafures,  with  his  toil, 

Are  fairly  counted,  wh,»t's  the  gain  ? 
Fatigued,  and  tired,  he  makes  a  coil, 

And  puts  up  game  not  worth  the  pain : 
Thus  love's  without  a  goal,  a  race, 
Thus  fportfr.ien  fay,  love's  like  the  chafe. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         283 

True  lovers  fay,  love's  like  the  devil, 

Who  turns  a  hundred  devious  ways, 
With,  faint-like  face,  and  heart  of  evil, 

And  fmiks  the  moft  when  he  betrays  : 
Docs  not  the  devil  take  every  hue, 

And  in  all  forms  and  fafhions  move  ! 
Is  net  he  black,  and  white,  and  blue, 

And  hot  and  cold  ?  —  aud  fo  is  love  : 
And  thus  to  love  are  lovers  cml, 
As  Indians  court  fiom  fear  the  devil. 
Let  carping  idiots  Hill  condemn, 

Where  reaion  bids  them  mod  rejoice, 
For  if  they  err  the  fault's  in  them, 

And  in  the  objects  of  their  choice  : 
The  lover  that  iball  all  excel, 

Let  him  but  choofe  a  faithlels  fair  ; 
His  love  fhal!  prove  a  very  hell, 

No  Lethe  to  relieve  his  care  : 
Let  him  of  reafon  take  advice, 
And  love  flia.l  be  a  paradile. 


BALLAD  —  IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 


LIFE'S  a  general  chafe,  and  the  world  is  the  field, 

Where  friends,  friends  hunt,  and  brothers  hunt  brothrr-, 
Where  to  day,  fairly  hunted,  to  iis  others  yield, 

And  to. morrow  we're  hunted  by  others  : 
Through  calling,  profcffion,  and  'radc,  to  get  rich, 

Ail  wrangle,  and  fquabble,  and  fcramble, 
Through  wood,  dale,  and  bottom,  o'er  hedge,  ftile,and  ditch, 

Through  bufh,  and  through  briar,  and  through  bramble, 
Then,  come  round  me  all  hunters — in  Lift's  hark  away 

We  have  portions  of  pleafure  and  forro\v, 
And  the  man  after  game  that's  a  hunter  to-day, 

May  be  game  for  Ibme  hunrer  to- \vorrow. 
The  poor  poet,  of  virtue  who'd  fain  be  the  friend, 

Cries  the  age  is  corrupt,  and  he'll  fhcw  it ; 
But  while  hunting  his  brains  the  wo;  Id's  manners  to  mend, 

Pale  poverty  hunts  the  poor  poet  : 
While  hunting  in  battle  for  g'ory  ar.'l  fame, 

Grim  death  hunts  the  foluier  ana  fail  or, 
And  the  heir,  cut  of  cafli,  who  can  Hart  no  more  game, 


284  D-IB  DIN'S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

Is  at  I  a  ft  hunted  down  by  his  taylor : 
Then,  conic  round  me  all  hunters — in  Life's  hark  away 

We  have  portions  of  pkafure  and  forrow, 
And  the  rnan  after  game  that's  a  hunter  to-day, 

Mr-:y  be  game  for  fbme  hunter  to-morrow. 
Country  fquires  dafJi  away,  nor  their  noddles  concern } 

'Bout  the  world,  or  its  jofUings,  and  erodings, 
Till,  -U  length,  to  die  br>:to.:i,  A^reon's  they  turn, 

Eaten  in  by  their  dot's  and  their  horfcs: 
Indifcrirninate  plcafurts  who  chafes  in  vicv,-, 

Whi'e  to  pleafure  in  time  fall  a  martyr, 
And  the  bold  fortune  hunter  who  ran  clown  a  fhrew, 

Will  find  he  was  caught  by  a  tarter  : 
Then,  come  round  me  all  hunters — in  Life's  hark  away 

We  have  portions  of  plea  fu re  and  forrow, 
And  the  man  after  game  that's  a  hunter  to-day, 

May  be  game  for  lortie  hunter  to-morrow. 
The  hunks  who  hunts  riches,  i?  hunted  by  care, 

Thofe  who  joy  hunt  are  hunted  by  trouble,   , 
The  chvmiit  hunts  gold  through  fire,  water,  and  air, 

And  is  run  down  at  laft  by  a  bubble  : 
Folly  hunts  the  four  mifanthrope  clofe  at  the  hccis, 

In  the  moment  at  folly  he's  ftoffing, 
And  cv'n  the  death  hunter,  in  coffins  who  deals, 

Is,  at  laft,  hunted  into  a  coffin  : 
Virtuofos  hunt  butterflies,  courtiers  levees, 

Patriots  hunt  for  the  good  of  the  nation, 
Hungry  gluttons  hunt  turtle,  phyticiuns  hunt  fees, 

And  are  chafed,  in  return,  by  vexation  : 
A  reciprocal  chafe  are  mankind  and  their  jo)s, 

And  this  maxim  obtains  the  world  over, 
Then  with  reafon  in  view,  let's  bant  p'e^fure  my  boys, 

Till  by  time  we  are  hunted  to  cover : 
Then,  come  round  me  all  hunters — in  Life's  hark  away 

We  have  portions  of  pleafure  and  forrow, 
And  the  man  after  game  that's  a  hunter  to  day, 

May  be  game  for  fomc  hunur  to-morrow. 

BALLAD  — IN  WILL   OF   THE  WISP. 


A  BARD  in  yonder  corner  fee, 
There's  foratthing  in  this  man,  fays  he, 


DJBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         2^5 

'Tis  true  he  cannot  write  like  me, 

His  wit  won't  bear  infpedUon; 

To  hit  the  foolifh  times  was  right, 

When  men  neglected  genius  flight, 

My  play  for  inftance,  damned  firll  night. 

The  manners  want  correction  : 

Certainly  they  do,  and,  therefore,  fo  far  this  man's  at 
tempt  is  meritorious  to  he  fure.  if  I  had  handled  the  fub- 
jetSt  it  would  have  Been  done  in  a  different  fort  of  a  manner  ; 
but  his  bungling  \vit  only  proves  that  his  own  pofition  i* 
truth — 

For  when  lie  takes  fuch  foolifli  fits, 

To  rail,  and  feoff,  at  would  be  wits, 

He  proves,  as  hard  hiinfelf  he  hits, 

That  he's  not  all  perfection. 

An  Alderman  'gainft  fco!s  is  rage, 

Cries,  lord,  he's  right  to  lafh  the  age, 

,Old  Shakefpear  faid  the  world's  a  ftage, 

Ke  mtrits  our  protecflion  : 

I  liked  to  hear  him  laugh  at  fops, 

And  wdifts  cut  fliort,  and  flirts  and  crops, 

Intrigues  in  churches,  and  at  hops, 

And  fafliions  flrange  collection  : 

And  then  how  I  did  laugh  about  the  fellow's  giving  a 
dinner  with  nothing  to  eat,  ha,  ha,  ha, — and  then  he  palled 
a  compliment  on  the  city — He  ought  to  be  encouraged. 

But  when  he  rails  at  hoarded  pelf, 

And  turtle  feafts,  the  (lupid  eif, 

He's  wrong — but  then  he  owns  himfelf, 

We  can't  be  all  perfection. 

Mifj  Twinkle  cries,  to  fifter  Tab, 

I'm  pleafed  he's  given  you  prudts  a  dab, 

But  of  coquettifh  airs  to  blab, 

'Twas  done  without  reflexion; 

Well  now,  cries  Tab,  then  I  proteft, 

1  likes  about  coquettes  the  bcft  ; 

But  when  «jf  Prudes  he  makes  a  jeft, 

The  man.dcferves  correction. 

Well  then  now  fait  and  troth,  faid   an  Irishman,  'tis 
mighty  well  with  his  mixture,  and  his  hope,  his  good  rafca!, 
hi*  honeft  flatterer,  and  the  reft  of  it — Oh  it  is  aU  fair  game  i 

But  when  he  talk*,  the  llanderous  rogue^ 

That  cards  and  dice  are  all  the  vogue, 


286  DlBDINrS  SELECTED  SONGS, 

Fait,  tis  too  much  upon  the  brogue. 
But  no  one's  all  perfection. 

The  will  then  taken  for  the  deed, 

1  fancy  in  each  face  1  read, 

1  fliall,  as  heretofore,  fucceed, 

And  without  much  objeclion  ; 

When  I  was  in  the  fcribbling  fit, 

Had  with  my  zeal  kept  pace  my  wit, 

Ev'n  Shakefpcar's  foil  had  nothing  writ, 

More  worthy  of  protection, 
Nay,  big  with  emulation  to  merit  your  applaufe,  had   iny 
ability  kept  pace  with  my  inclination,  I  fliou'd  have  given 
my  own  Thefts  the  lie,  and  produced  a  perfect  entertain 
ment — 

But  ardent  willies  will  not  do, 

I,  therefore,  mnfl:  rciy  on  you, 

And  fhould  fotne  little  praife  be  due, 

PaU  by  each  imperfection. 


BALLAD — IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 


THOUGH  hard  the  valiant  foMicr's  life, 
They  fome  fweet  moments  know  ; 

Joy  ne'er  was  yet  unmixed  with  ftrife, 
Nor  happineis  with  woe  : 

'Tis  hard,  when  friend,  when  children,  wife, 

Reluclant  from  him  part, 
While  fancy  paints  the  muffled  drum, 

The  mournful  fife, 
And  the  Joud  volley  o'er  his  grave, 
The  fo'cmn  requiem  to  the  brave  ! 

Ail  this  he  hears, 
Yet  calm's  th'.ir  fears 
With  fmiles  while  horror's  in  his  heart  : 
But  when  the  fmiling  hour  fhall  come, 

To  bring  him  home  at  la(T, 
HO-.V  fweet  his  conftant  wife  to  greet, 

His  children,  friends, 
And  in  their  circling  arms  to  find  amends, 

For  ail  his  fuiTeriugs  part. 
'Tis  hard  when,  defolation  fpread, 

Djatli  whirls  the  rapid  car, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.          287 

And  .h.-fe  invaded  hear,  and  dread 

The  thunder  of  the  war  : 
Ah  !  then,  indeed,  friend,  children,  wife, 

Have  you  true  caufe  to  fear, 
Too  foon,  alas,  the  muffled  drum, 

The  mournful  fife, 
And  the  loud  volley  o'er  the  grave, 
Sh.'.U  found  fad  requiems  to  the  brave, 

While  thofe  a'ive, 

Faint  joy  revive, 

'Xncl  blend-  hope',-  fmile  with  pity's  tear  : 
Ikit  when  the  fmiling  hour  fhall  come, 

To  bring1  him  home  at  laft, 
flow  fweet  his  conftant  wife  to  greet, 

His   children,  friends, 
And  in  their  circling  arms  to  find  amends, 
Tor  a!i  his  fuiTerings  part. 


BALLAD  —  IN  WILL  OF  THE  WISP. 


Oil  yes,  Oh  yes,  Oh  yes  ! 
I/jft,  or  mi  fluid, 
Or  ftolen,  or  flrayed, 

The  changer,  the  decency,  the  duty  of  a  youth, 
V/ho  was   famed,    'till  this    fad   accident,   for   probity  and 

truth  ; 

Who  afluaged  his  parents  forrows,  alleviated  their  cares, 
And  who,  with  fpotlefs  honour,  regulated  their  affairs  : 

This  young  man,  as  he  can-c  out  of  his   father's  bankers, 
vp.s   btconcd    by  a  lady  in  a  hackney  coach — He  drove  to  a 
jeweller's  where  he  bought  a  diamond    necklace.     He    dined 
with    a  roaring  party  at  a  tavern;   and,  in  the  evening,  was 
heard  to  talk  very  loud  at  the  opera.     He  was  nexi  introdu 
ced  to  a  houfe  not  an  hundred  miles  from  St.  James's,  wheife  , 
it  is  fuppofed  he  could  get  no   flipper,  for    he    was   feci 
three  o'clock  in   the   morning    voracioufly  to  fwailow  dice 
und  eat  cards. 

V.'iiu   to   his   wretched   parents    this   mifguided  youth  will 
bring, 

Be  fides  the  fatisffufb'cn 
Of  doing  a  good  ac'tion. 
Shall  receive  a  funrfar  more  th«n  Indian  mines   could   e'er 


288         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

They  fhall  fee  the  peace  and  comfort  of  a  family  rcftored  — 

God  five  the  King. 
O  yes,  O  yes,  O  yes ! 
Loft  or  miflaid, 
Or  flolcn,  or  ftrayed, 

The  tears  of  a  widow,  young  wealthy  and  fair, 
Who   nurfed  a   rich  old   hufband  half  a  year  with  tender 

care, 

Who  loved  him  not  for  either  her  inconvenience,  or  his  pelf, 
All  which  is  very  true,  for  fhe  told  him  fo  herfelf. 

This  unfortunate  young  lady  was  feen,  about  three  hours 
after  her  hufoand's  death,  to  go  to  the  Commons  to  prove 
his  will,  where  meeting  with  a  very  handibme  young  Proc 
tor,  it  is  fuppofed  the  fire  of  his  glances  abforbed  and 
dried  up  the  tears  of  this  difeonfolate  widow,  for  {he  has 
never  been  ieen  to  cry  fmce  but  once,  and  then  (lie  was  de- 
toAed  with  an  onion  in  her  pocket  handkerchief, 
Who  to  this  wretched  mourner  thefc  fame  precious  drops 
will  bring, 

Befidcs  the  fatisfaction, 
Of  doing  a  good  action, 

Shall  receive  a  gracious  fmile,  which  is  all  that  can  be  prof 
fered, 
For  they'll  be  cried  no  mnre,  nor  no  greater  reward  offered, 

God  fave  the  King. 
O  yes,  O  yes,  O  yes  ! 
Loft,  or  mifleard, 
Or  ftofen  or  (hayed, 

T'ne  knife  and  fork  of  an  .-tlderman,  a  cwunfellor's  witr, 
The  dice  box  of  a  grecian,  aparfon's  tythe  pig, 
The  fan  of  a  beauty,  her  falfe  tooth  alfo. 
And  a  hair  powder  licence  belonging  to  a  beavi. 

As  thefe  poor  fuiTrrs  are  ruined  and  deprived  of  their 
livelihood  by  the  lofs  of  thefe  refpeitive  articles,  they  be 
ing  their  working  tools,  the  charitable  and  humane  are  hum 
bly  requeftcd  to  take  into  confederation  their  forlorn  condi 
tion — 

And,  whoever  to  thefe  poor  people  thefe  articles  will  bring 
Bcfides  the  fatufaction, 
Of  doing  a  good  action, 

Many  thanks  fliall  be  given  to  the  charitable  donor?, 
Fur  they're  of  very  little  ufe  to  any  body  but  the  owners. 
God  fave  the  king. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         289 


BALLAD — IN  GREAT 


As  a  plain  cafe  in  point's  the  beft  mode  of  explaining, 

To  make  my  pofition  to  each  judgment  clear, 
Without  further  a  tip-toe  your  patience  detaining, 
I  fliall  ton  at  Antipodes,  (hew  and  ton  here  : 

Here  conference  for  gold, 

If  e'er  was  known  to  be  fold, 

There  to  fale  they  expofe  it, 

And  every  one  knows  it, 

For  the  matter  to  mince  might  a  good  market  fpoil : 
Thus  what's  meant  by  reports,  which  are  varioufly  fprcdd, 
That  we  the  feet  (land  on,  and  they  on  the  head, 
Will  turn  out  to  be  this-,  without  cavil  or  coil,  - 
We're  the  gem  and  the  Antipodeans  the  foil. 

Is  a  treaty  of  marriage  on  foot  the  dear  lady, 
Here  never  to  talk  of  her  intereft  is  heard, 

Full  of  love  fhe  ne'er  aflcs  if  the  writings  are  ready, 
Nor  thinks  of  a  fecond  fpoufe,  much  lefs  a  third  : 

Is  a  counfcllor  learned, 

In  a  law  fuit  concerned, 

He  gives  you  his  trouble, 

For  nothing,  to  double 

His  fee  would  that  inftant  the  whole  bufmefs  fpoil ! 
There  ftill  topfy  turvy  we  different  modes  fee, 
Love  obeys,  the  bcft  bidder,  and  law  the  beft  fee, 
And  thus  clear  as  day,  without  cavil  or  coil, 
We're  the  gem  and  the  Antipodians  the  foil. 

Would  you  wifli  farther  proof  as  a  prominent  feature, 
Take  this,  though  'twill  keen  fenfihility  lliock, 
At  Antipodes  they  have  a  beautiful  creature, 
A  fine  (lately  bird  very  like  our  game  cock : 
Inflaming  ics  blood, 
They  rniy  drugs  in  its  food, 
And  arm  it  for  fighting, 
Then  (land  round  delighting, 

While  thefe  birds  of  their  plumage  each  other  defpoil : 
You  wonder  and  gaze,  yet  'tis  truth  I  report, 
But  lince  England  difdaias  fo  unmanly  a  fport, 
Bb 


290         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

No  reflection  on  us  from  their  vica  can  recoil, 
We're  the  gem  and  the  Antipodeans  the  foil. 

But  to  bring  the  cafe  home,  let  us  fpeak  of  their  writers, 
Who  having  fuch  food  for  their  frolickfome  niufc, 

Are  in  fat  ire  and  ridicule  terrible  biter?, 
And,  though  none  they  point  out,  all  the  cap  fit  abufe  ; 

Their  cafe  touches  me, 

But  was  I  ever  fo  free, 

In  my  filly  labour*, 

To  laugh  at  my  neighbours  ? 
No  ;  a  fair  wholefome  moral's  the  jet  of  my  toil  : 
Befides  here  no  fault  could  they  find  did  they  try, 
No,  I'd  have  them  to  know  that  my  audience  and  F, 
What'er  out  of  envy  their  cavil  and  coil, 
Arc  the  gem  and  the  Antipodeans  the  foii. 


BALLAD-—  IN   CHRISTMAS   GAMBOLS. 


WHEN  freedom  kuew  not  where  to  rove, 

From  conquered  Greece,  and  groaning  Rome, 
At  random  driven,  like  Noah's  dove, 

Without  a  fhelter  or  a  home  : 
The  expanded  world  flic  viewed,  where  bed 

She  might  repofe  her  weary  foot ; 
Saw  this  our  ifle,  fet  up  her  reft, 

And  bid  the  fpreading  oak  take  root  ; 
Bid  it  adorn  the  land,  and  be 
Fair  England's  tree  of  liberty. 

Thus  fpoke  the  goddefs — This  fair  tree, 

The  towering  foreft's  kingly  tioaft, 
Let  my  behelts  kept  facred  he, 

This  tree  fhall  guard  your  fea  girt  coafl  : 
Freedom's  behefts  are  thcfe — To  know 

No  fa&ion,  no  cabal,  no  caufe, 
From  whofe  peftiferous  breath  may  grow 

Aught 'gainft  the  monarch,  or  the  laws; 
Keep  facred  thefe,  the  oak  fhall  be 
Fair  England's  tree  of  liberty. 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED    SONGS.  291 

Its  friendly  arms  that,  on  their  way, 

Thofe  fuccour  who  its  aid  implore  ; 
A  faithful  portrait  fhall  difplay, 

Of  England's  hofpitable  ihore  : 
Of  England's  courage  this  fair  tree, 

A  great  example  to  impart, 
To  fuccour  law  and  liberty, 

Shall  make  a  rampart  of  its  heart; 
Hail  facred  oak,  then,  deign   to  be 
Fair  England's  tree  of  liberty. 

Then  catch  the  enthufiaftic  ftr^in, 

Hail  freedom's  tree  in  fervent  hymns, 
That  freely,  on  the  awful  main, 

Launches  in  B'itain'scaufe  its  limbs  : 
That  mighty  walls,  and  bulwarks  forms, 

Whence  England's  thunder  fhall  be  hurled, 
And,  fpight  of  battles  and  of  ftorms, 

That  bears  our  commerce  through  the  world  ; 

Hail  freedom's  fhrine  !   flill  deign  to  be 

Fair  England's  Tree  of  Liberty. 


BALLAD  -  IN  CHRISTMAS  GAMBOLS. 


WHEN  I  told  you  your  cheeks  v  ore  the  bkifh  of  the  rofe, 

That  the  fpnng  wa*  the  type  of  your  youth. 
That  no  lily  a  tint  like  your  neck  couid  ciilclofe* 

I  made  love  in  the  language  of  truth  : 
Ytt  the  lovelielt  rofe,  once  the  fummer  away, 

Of  its  bloom  leaves  no  veftige  behind  ; 
But  your  blooir,  when  the  fummer  of  life  fhall  decay, 

P'refli  as  ever  lhall  glow  in  your  mind. 

See  the  bee,  as  from  fl  uver  to  flower  he  roves, 

Thefweets  of  the  garden  explore, 
And,  in  winter,  to  iealt  on  the  banquet  he  loves, 

Liy  in  his  indufti jous  (tore  : 
So  ail  your  employment  through  life's  bufy  day, 

Is  the  fwcets  drawn  from  goodneis  to  iir.d  ; 
Rcafon's  fcaft  to  fupply,  and  cheat  winter  ?  ..ay, 

Frem  that  fource  of  perfection  your  niind. 


2pl         DiBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

And  thus,  as  thefeafons  of  life  pafs  away, 

We  enjoy  every  various  fcenc  ; 
The  fpring  all  expanding,  the  fummer  all  gay, 

The  autumn  all  mild  and  ferene  ; 
You  are  yet  in  your  fummer;  but,  when  on  your  head, 

While  from  all  admiration  you  find, 
Silver  winter  its  honours  fhall  facredly  fhed, 

Still  fummer  fhall  bloom  in  your  mind. 


BALLAD  —  IN  GHIRSTMAS  GAMBOLS, 


COME  here,  come  here,  my  pretty  dear, 

Leave  bufmefs,  care,  and  labour. 
Chriftmas  comes  but  once  a  year, 
Come  lads  and  lafles,  come,  and  hear 

My  merry  pipe  and  tabor  : 
I  fell  all  forts  of  curious  wares, 

Tapes,  garters,  ribbands,  laces  : 
That  give  the  form  enchanting  airs, 

And  fet  off  pretty  faces. 
And  then  I're  philters,  drugs,  and  charms.. 

That,  when  the  nymph's  deferted, 
Shall  lure  the  fhepherd  to  her  arms, 

And  make  him  tender  hearted. 
Corwe  here,  come  here  my  pretty  dear, 

Leave  bufinefs,  care,  and  labour, 
Chriftmas  comes  but  once  a  year, 
Come  lads  and  laffes,  come,  and  hear 

My  merry  pipe  and  tabor. 

This  wonderful  love  powder  fee, 

Though  ever  fo  hard  featured, 
T"o  a  Venus  that  converts  each  fher 

By  making  her  good  natured  : 
This  eye  water  can  power  difpenfe, 

To  cure  each  jealous  blindnefs, 
And  turn,  by  generous  confidence, 

All  jarring  Arife  to  kindnefs  : 
Come  here,  come  here,  my  pretty  dear, 

Leave  buiinefs,  care,  and  labour, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         293 

Chriftmas  comes  but  once  a.  year, 
Come  lads  andlafles,  come,  and  hear 
My  merry  pipe  and  tabor. 

When  clouds  fliall  wedlock's  Iky  deface, 

And  dim  that  brilliant  heaven, 
Upon  your  lips  this  padlock  place, 

By  wary  prudence  given  : 
But  when,  from  ftorms,  and  fempefts  free, 

The  horizon  looks  propitious  ; 
From  kindiiefs  hand  take  pleafure's  key, 

And  open  fcenes  delicious  : 
Come  here,  come  here,  my  pretty  dear, 

Leave  bufinefs,  care,  and  labour, 
Ghriflmas  comes  but  once  a  year, 
Come  lads  and  laffcs,  come,  and  hear 

My  merry  pipe  and  tabor. 


BALLAD  —  IN   CHRISTMAS   GAMBOLS. 


STANDING  one  fummer's  day  on  the  Tower  Slip, 

Cartlefs  howl  my  time  fliould  employ, 
3ft  popped  in  my  head  that  I'd  take  atrip 

Aboard  of  a  Margate  Hoy  : 
I  torik  a  few  flops,  fuch  as  fliirts  and  a  coat, 

For  of  prog  I  knew  well  they'd  be  ftorcd  ; 
Then  I  hail'd  a  pair  of  oars,  fhoved  of  my  boat, 

And  away  I  da  {hed  aboard. 

'  Ah  my  dear  Commodore,  who  thought  of  feeing  you  ? 
tc  What,  Mrs. Garbage  !  How  is  the  Alderman?" — 'There 
is  my  hufband,  Sir ;'  "  Pon  my  word  and  dicky  I  declare.'* 
'  Give  me  leave,  Commodore,  to  introduce  you  to  my  friends  : 
Mr.  Shadrack,  Commodore  Kelfon,  Commodore  Ktlfon, 
Mr.  Shadrack  '  "  Very  much  at  your  fharvice,  Sir."  '  Mils 
Minnikin,  Commodore  Ke:fon,  Commodore  Kelfcn,  Mifg 
Minnikin.'  "  Very  happy  to  have  the  pleafure  of  knowing 
you  Sir."  *  Dr,  Quibus,  Commodore  Kelfon.  Commodore 
Kelfon,  Dr.  Quibus  ;  Captain  Squafli,  Commodore  Kelfon, 
Commodore  Kelfon,  Captain  Squafh  ;  Sir  Flielim  O'Drog- 
kcda,  Commodore  Kelfon.  Commodore  Kelfon,  Sir  Phtlim 
B  b  2 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

O'Drogheda.'— Hollo  thcie  !  Caft  oiF  th«  painfer — Sit  ftill 
Jadics  and  gentlemen. 

So  off  we  went  with  a  flowing  jib, 

Full  of  merriment  and  joy, 
The  Alderman  munching,  and  pratling  his  rib, 
Sing  who  fo  blith  as  we, 
Who  take  a  voyage  to  fea, 
Aboard  of  a  Margate  Hoy. 

Then  fuch  glee  and  humour,  our  joy  to  prolong, 

Pervaded  us  fore  and  af( ; 
Some  were  telling  a  (lory,  fome  whittling  a  fong, 

As  we  turned  in  and  out  'mon*fl:  the  craft : 
Then  we'd  talk  of  our  danger,  and  then  we  were  gay, 

Then  how  we'd  aftonifli  the  folks, 
When  at  Margate  arrived  ;  then,  cut  out  of  our  way, 

To  laugh  at  the  watermeij'*  jokes. 

*  Ho,  the  fliip  ahoy.'  "  Ay,  ay."  '  Pray  have  you  one 
Wifeman  aboard  ?'  "  No,  no,"  '  Then  you  are  all  fools, 
key — ha,  ha,  ha,  went  Mifs  Minnikin.' — "  Dat  is  very  coot 
chokes,"  faid  the  Je\v.  '  Why,  I  fay,  Mofcs,'  faid  the  man 
that  was  affronted,  '  are  you  a  bull  or  bear?  Damme,  I 
thinks  you  look  more  like  a  monkey.  And  you  Mifs  Dolly 
Drylips,  take  a  reef  in  your  perriwig,  and  clap  a  ftopper  on 
your  muzzle,  clue  up  the  plaits  in  your  jaw  bags,  and  give 
your  tongue  leave  of  abfencc.  About  fhip — helm's  a  lee — 
here  flie  comes.' 

3o  we  made  tothcr  tack  and  lay  gunnel  to, 

Which  foon  gave  a  damp  to  onr  joy, 
Hifs  Minnikin  fcjualled — mine  cot,  cried  the  Jew, 
Sing  vrho  fo  blyth  as  we, 
Who  take  a  voyage  to  fca, 
On  board  of  a  Margate  Hoy. 

The  company's  merriment  now  out  of  joint, 

And  their  tatiers  not  moving  fo  quick, 
Scarce  right  a-head  did  we  twig  Cuckold's  Foicr, 

But  the  alderman  began  to  be  lick  : 
Then  we'd  like  to  fall  ioul  of  an  oyfter  fmack, 

The  wind  frefhing  towards  the  More, 
Then,  ftretching  too  far  on  the  larboard  tack, 

.Sy  and  by,  wecimc  bump  afhore. 


BIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONCS. 

f  Ah  we  fliall  all  be  caft  away  !  my  poor  dear  pattern 
«*p ;  caflied  away  !  What  fliall  I  do  to  be  fhaved  ?'  "  Why 
faith,  faid  I,  I  fancy  we  fliall  have  a  touch  of  the  fait  water 
before  we  get  to  Margate."  '  Yes,  Sir,'  faid  the  Do&or, 
c  not  that  I  have  any  quarrel  with  death,  but  lam  afraid  we 
fliaU  take  in  too  large  a  dofe.'  "  How  do  you  do,  Sir  Phc- 
lim  ?"  *  Arrah,  I  fliould  be  well  enough  if  I  was  no:  f* 
curfcdly  fick."  She  right*,  flie  rights  ! 

Next  a  gale  coming  on  we  did  precioufly  kick, 

Which  finifhed  completely  our  joy, 

'Tvras,  madam,  how  do  you  do?  Oh  lam  monftroufly  fick  \ 
S'ngwho  fo  blyth  as  we, 
Who  take  a  voyage  to  fea, 
Aboard  of  a  Margate  Hoy. 
.And  now  'twould  have  made  a  philofopher  grin, 

TV  have  feen  fuch  a  concourfe  of  muns ; 
Sick  as  death,  wet  as  muck,  from  the  heel  to  the  chin, 

For  it  came  on  to  blow  great  guns : 
Spoilt  cloath?,  and  provifions,  now  clogged  up  the  way, 

In  a  dreary  boifterous  night; 
While  apparently  dead  every  paffenger  lay 
With  the  ficknefs,  but  move  with  the  flight. 

'  Oh,  oh,  I  wifli  I  was  at  home  in  my  bed  !'  «<  Oh  that  I 
was  a  hundred  miles  off?"  "  Mafhy  upon  my  fhins.'  "  oh, 
oh,  will  no-body  throw  me  overboard  !"  '  Avaft  there.' 
"  Ah  my  poor  dear  pattern  cap's  blown  into  the  pond!"  ''Oh 
my  foul,  what  A  devil  of  a  lickncfs  !"  "  Arrah,  flop  the' 
fliip — Sir,  would  you  be  fo  kind  as  to  be  after  handing  me 
the  caudle  cup  ?'  Land,  land,  upon  the  ftarboard  bow.° 
At  laft,  after  turning  on  two  or  three  tacks, 

Margate  lights  foon  reftorcd  all  our  joy; 
The  men  found  their  ftomachs,  the  women  their  clacks, 
Sing  who  fo  blyth  as  we, 
Who  take  a  voyage  to  fea, 
Aboard  of  a  Margate  Hoy. 


BALLAD IN     CHRISTMAS  GAMBOLS. 

THERE  were  Farmer  Thrafher,  a.nd  he  had  a  cow, 
And  gammer  were  very  fond  on  un, 


DIBDIN  S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

And  they'd  a  fon  Jacky  that  made  a  fine  bow,  •    « 

So  they  fent  un  a  prentice  to  London, 

Jacky's  matter  a  barber  and  a  hair-drefler  were, 
Than  fome  fquire's  'cod  he  thought  unfelf  bigger, 

In  the  day  through  the  town  he  would  drefs  and  cut  hair, 
And  drefled  out  at  night — cut  a  figure. 

To  ape  Jackey's  matter,  were  all  his  delight, 

The  foap  fuds  and  razor  both  {corning, 
He's  been  took't  by  the  nofe  by  the  fame  fop  at  night, 

That  he  took't  by  the  nofe  in  the  morning. 

Now  to  fee  the  cow  moan,  would  hare  made  a  cat  laugh, 

Her  milk  were  his  food  late  and  early, 
And  even  if  Jackty  had  hcen  her  own  calf, 

She  could  not  ha  loved  un  more  dearly. 

She  moaned,  and  flie  moaned,  nor  knew  what  fht 

To  heart  fo  flie  took  this  difaftcr, 
At  iaft  roaming  about,  fome  rogues  cut  off  her  tail, 

And  then  fent  her  back  to  her  matter. 

Here's  the  kiaw  came  home,  Gammer,  come  bring  out  the 
pail, 

Poor  creature  I'ze  glad  we  have  found  her, 
Cried  Dame,  tcn't  our  kiaw,  flic's  got  never  a  tail, 

Here  Roger  go  take  care  and  pound  her. 

'Tis  our  kiaw,  but  you  zee  flic's  been  maimed  by  fome  brute 
Why,  dame    thou'rt  a  vool — give  me  patience; 

So  to  fquabbling  they  went — when  to  end  the  difpute, 
Came  home  Jacky  to  fee  his  relations. 

His  fpencer  he  fported,  his  hat  round  he  twirled, 

As  whittling  a  tune  ht  came  bolt  in, 

And  bedockecl,  and   belopped,  wounds,  he   look'd   all   the 
world 

Like  trimmed  ban  turns,  or  magpies  a  moulting. 

Oh  dear  !  'tis  our  Jacky,  come  bring  out  the  ale, 

So  Gammer  fell  (kipping  around  him, 
Our  Jacky,  why,  dam  t,  he's  got  never  a  tail — 

Here,  Roger,  go  take  un,  and  pound  un. 

'Tis  the  kick,  I  fay,  old  one,  fo  ]  brought  it  down; 
Wore  by  jemmies  fo  neat,  awl  io  fpunky ; 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.       297 

Ah,  Jacky,  thou  went'ft  up  a  puppy  to  town, 
And  now  thee  be'ft  come  back  a  monkey. 

Gammer  ftormcd,  Gaffer  fwore,  Jacky  whittled,  and  now 

'Iwas  agreed,  without  any  more  paflion, 
To  take  Tacky  in  favour  as  well  as  the  cow, 

Bccaufe  they  were  both  in  the  fafhion. 


BALLAD  —  IN    CHRISTMAS   «AMBOLS. 


My  grandfather's  grandfather,  valiant  and  (tout, 
A  Briton  e'er  luxury  imported  the  gout, 
In  the  fic'd,  in  the  ball-room,  or  fcampcring  o'er  rockf. 
Could  give  chafe  to  the  foe,  or  the  fair,  or  the  fox  : 
A  band  of  choice  friends,  at  the  found  of  his  horn, 
Sailed  forth  blyth  and  buxom,  to  hail  the  fair  morn  ; 
All  lufty,  and  noble,  and  true  and  tried  men, 
And  called,  for  diftimSUon,  the  Lads  of  the  Glen. 

Shall  I  tell  you  their  names,  there  was  bold   Alfred  Howe, 
Sprung  from  Guy,  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  hunted  a  cow, 
And  then,  on  his  courfer  came  valiant  Sir  Hugh, 
Born  from  that  London  'prentice  two  lions  that  flew  : 
Next  that  dare  devil,  Hengift,  with  target  and  gorge, 
Worn,  his  anceftors  write,  by  the  mighty  St.  George  $ 
Then  Owen  ap  rice,  who  again  and  again, 
Had  been  in  at  the  death  with  the  lads  of  the  Glen. 

Next  Percy,  came  on,  born  of  that  noble  race, 

Who  accomplifhed  fuch  wonders  at  famed  Chevy  Chace; 

Then  Orfon  the  jolly,  a  bold  daring  elf, 

Sprung  from  Arthur,  nay,  fome  fay,  from  Nimrod  himfelf : 

Edwin,  Glanville,  and  Huntingdon,  found  men  and  good, 

The  laft  the  great  grandfon  of  bold  Robinhood  ; 

To  thefe  add  my  anctltor,  making  juft  ten, 

And  you'll  get  the  whole  lift  of  the  Lads  of  the  Glen. 

'Tis  writ  in  fair  characters,  now  in  the  hall, 

What  a  chafe  they  were  led  the  fly  fox  to  enthral  ? 

He  run  'em  at  length,  and  then  hard  at  a  pufli, 

And  u#w  they're  mile*  from  him,  and  now  at  his  brufli  : 


298         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

'Till  the  dogs  are  fo  weary  that,  panting  for  breath, 
They  o'ertake  him,  hut  cannot  accomplifh  his  death  ; 
Britons  fpare  proflratc  foes,  fo  they  looftd  him  again, 
To  afford  future  fport  for  the  Lads  of  the  Gleii. 

Thus  rational  pleafure  was  all  their  delight, 

They'd  hunt  in  the  morning,  and  revel  at  night, 

Fair  truth  and  pure  honour,  dwelt  proud  in  each  breaft, 

And  kind  hofpitaiity  fet  up  her  reft  : 

And  from  their  gay  board  never  yet  vas  the  day, 

When  the  poor,  and  the  hungry,  went  empty  away; 

Britons  all  have  true  hearts,  yet,  'tis  hard  to  fay,  when 

We  fhall,  e'er,  fet  the  like  of  the  Lads  of  the  Glen. 

Then  charge  high  your  bumbers,  in  chorus  loud  fing, 
Like  true  fubjecls  let'*  all  drink  a  health  to  the  King  ; 
He's  a  (portfman  himfelf,  and  long,  long  may 
Give  him  hea  th  to  behold  his  i  Inftrious  race  : 
And  \\ou:d  ye,  ye  Britons,  your  honour  enfure, 
As  firm  as  your  courage,  your  re^litude  pure, 
His  virtues  but  emulate,  i'oou  fiiall,  again, 
Return  the  good  times  of  tlie  Lads  of  the  Glen. 


BALLAD  —  IN   CHRISTMAS  GAMBOLI, 


GIVE  ear  to  me,  both  high  and  low, 

And,  while  you  mourn  hard  fates  decree, 

Lament  a  tale  right  full  of  woe, 
Ol  comt  ly  Ned  that  died  at  fea. 

H's  father  was  a.  commodore, 

His  King  and  country,  i'erved  had  he  ; 
But,  now,  his  tears  in  torrents  pour, 
.   For  comely  Ned  that  died  at  i'e<t. 

His  fifter  Peg  her  brother  loved, 
for  a  right  tender  heart  had  (be, 

And  often  to  llrong  grief  was  moved, 
For  comely  Ned  that  died  at  tea. 

His  fweetheatt  Grace,  once  blyth  ar.d  gaft 
Tkatied  the  cUiice  unou  the  len, 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         29$ 

Kow  waftes  in  tears  the  lingering  day, 
For  comely  Ned  that  died  at  fea. 

His  friends,  who  loved  his  manly  worth, 
For  none  more  friends  could  boafl  than  he, 

To  mourn  now  lay  afide  their  mirth, 
For  comely  Ned  that  died  at  fea. 

Come  then  and  join,  with  friendly  tear, 

The  fong  that,  'midftof  all  our  glee, 
We  from  our  hearts  chant  once  a  year, 

For  comely  Ned  that  died  at  fea, 


BALLAD  —  IN  CHRISTMAS  GAMBOLS. 


JPOOR  negroe  fay  one  ting  you  no  take  offence, 
Black  and  white  he  one  colour  a  hundred  year  hence, 
For  when  mafTa  death  kick  him  into  the  grave, 
He  no  fparc  negroe,  buckra,  nor  mafia,  nor  Have. 
Then  dance,  and  then  fing,  and  the  banjer  thrum  thrum, 
He  foolifli  to  link  what  to-morrow  my  come, 
Lilly  laugh  and  be  fat,  de  beft  ting  you  can  do, 
Time  enough  to  be  fad  when  you  kickaraboo. 

One  mafl'a,  one  flave,  high  and  low  all  degrees, 

Can  be  happy,  dance,  ting,  make  all  pleafure  him  plcafe^ 

One  flave  be  one  mafia,  he  good,  honeft  brave, 

One  mafia  bad,  wicked,  be  worfe  than  one  flave  : 

If  your  heart  tell  you  good,  you  all  happy,  all  well, 

If  bad,  he  plague,  vex  you  worfe  and  a  hell ; 

Let  your  heart  make  you  merry,  then  honed  and  true, 

And  you  no  care  no  farthing  for  Kickaraboo, 

One  game  me  fee  mafia  him  play  him  call  chefi, 
King,  queen,  bifhop,  knight,  caftle,  all  in  a  mefc. 
King  kill  knight,  queen  bifhop,  men  caftle  throw  down, 
Like  card-foldier  him  fcattcr,  all  lie  on  a  ground  : 
And  when  the  game  over,  king,  bifhop,  tag,  rag, 
Queen,  knight,  all  together  him  go  in  a  bag, 
SD  in  life's  game  at  chefs,  when  no  more  we  can  do, 
Mafia  death  bring  one  bag,  and  we  Kickarab»o 


jOO        DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Then  be  good,  what  you  am  never  mind  the  degree, 
Lilly  flower  good  for  fomewhat  as  well  as  great  tree  ; 
You  one  flave,  he  no  nfe  to  be  fulky  and  fh  , 
Worky,  worky,  perhaps,  you  one  maiTa  by'm  by. 
Savee  good  and  be  poor  make  you  a&  better  part, 
Than  be  rich  in  a  pocket  and  poor  in  a  heart, 
Though  ever  fo  low,  do  your  duty  for  true, 
All  your  friend  drop  one  tear  when  you  Kickaraboo, 


BALLAD  -  IN   CHRISTMAS  GAMBOLS. 


COME  round  me  ye  laffcs,  and  lend  me  an  ear, 

The  almanack  fays  ninety-fix  is  leap  year, 

Leap  year,  cries  our  Margery,  well  numfkull,  what  then  ? 

Why,  wound.-*,  don't  the  women  go  courting  the  men? 

And  they'll  make  the  beft  on't,  and  not  ftand  hum  drum, 

For  they  won't  get  another  for  eight  years  to  come  ; 

Come  ladies  a  truce  to  each  maidenifh  fear, 

Kifs  the  fellows,  and  wifh  them  a  happy  new  year. 

See  the  fly  little  toads  how  they  ogle  and  grin, 
That's  right,  fqueeze  his  hand,  chuck  un  undsr  the  chin, 
See  that  fhrimp  with  that  giant  there,  prattle  and  toy, 
You're  a  devilifh  fine  fellow — nay  don't  be  fo  coy; 
Then  ilie  fmirks,  and  (he  pats  him,  and  fo    this  the  trade  is, 
"Cod  thefe  leap  years  be  nice  times  for  the  ladies, 
That's  right,  how  they  fnigger,  and  fimper,  and  leer, 
Kifs  'em  up  girls,  and  wifh  'em  a  hap;>y  new  year. 

Then  as  there's  no  Jack  bur  a  finds  out  his  Jill, 

Who  knows,  hey,  but  I  may  of  iove  get  my  fi.J, 

Let  'em  come,  who's  afraid  !  wounds,  as  flout  as  they  be, 

I  flioulJ  like  for- to  catch  them  a  courting  of  me  : 

She  that  chufes  me  out  as  a   ,erfon  of  tafle, 

I  can  tell  her  will  find  me  not  very  fharm-faced, 

What  doft  tell  me.  fays  I:   that  thou  ioveft  me,  my  dear, 

Gc's  a  bufs  then,  and  wifh  me  a  happy  new  year. 

But,  wounds,  while  I  jokes  fo  in  this  merry  fit, 
I  mauntlet  my  tongue,  d'ye  .fee,  run  Tore  my  wit; 


IMBDIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS.  JOI 

For,  however,  one  may  laugh  'bout  the  girls  and  he  free, 
They  have  more  fenf'e  by  half  in  thcfe  matters  than  we  : 
Give  a  woman  her  way,  and  I'll  wager  upon  her, 
She  leaves  foppery  and  nonfenfe  to  chuie  truth  and  honour, 
And  he  may  well  brag,  and  his  head  high  up  rear, 
Whom  flic  kiffes,  and  wiOies  a  happy  new  year. 

Then  as  each  Britifh  beauty  be  conftant  and  loyal, 

So  much  do  they  doat  on  his  majeUy  royal, 

That  now  they  got  leave  for  to  do  what  they  pleafcs, 

'Cod  if  'twere  not  for  fhame  they'd  all  kifs  un  to  pieces  : 

So  as  loyalty^  truth,  and  each  generous  duty, 

Be  learnt  to  we  men  folks  by  fweetnefs  and  beauty, 

Let  us  not  be  out  done  in  our  own  proper  fpear, 

But  let  love  merit  love,  and  each  year  be  leap  year, 


FINALE—  IN   CHRISTMAS  GAMBOLS. 


COME  all  who  love, 
Through  pleafure's  grove, 
To  take  your  merry  rambles, 

Whofc  hearts  fo  free, 

Confirm  your  glee, 
Join  our  Chriftmas  Gambols. 
See  the  lads  and  lafles  wind, 

In  mazy  labrynth  dancing, 
The  harmlefs  feelings  of  the  mind, 

The  general  joy  enhancing: 
The  world's  vicillitudes  they  trace, 

As  they  the  figure  mealurc, 
Variety  and  change  of  place, 

Still  giving  zeft  to  pleafure, 

Come  all  who  kve,  &c. 

The  merry  hunters  and  the  horn, 
That  oft  have  waked  Aurora, 

To  unlock  the  treafures  of  the  morn, 
Through  the  domain  of  Flora  : 

2vext  in  quaint  form,  ar.d  vtftments  ga 
Comes  many  a  morice  dancer, 

c« 


2          DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS, 

While  bells  that  ring,  and  flutes  that  play, 
In  merry  cadence  anfwer  : 

Come  all  who  love,  &c. 

The  pipe  and  tabor's  fprightly  tone, 

The  organ's  found  ibnorous, 
The  comic  bagpipe  and  the  drone, 

Shall  join  the  {welling  chorus  : 
The  piercing  fife,  and  deafening  drum, 

For  honed  hearts  recruiting, 
To  join  the  mingling  found  lhall  come, 

Of  finging,  fiddling,  fluting  : 

Come  then  who  love,  &c. 

At  length  the  trumpet's  chearful  call, 

Sounds  to  the  feaft  of  pleafure, 
When  in  the  hofpitable  hall, 

Plenty  unlades  her  treafure  : 
See  Father  Chriftn.as  pleafed  appear, 

To  crown  our  inftitution, 
While  circling  goes  the  humming  beer, 

In  fportive  revolution : 

Come  then  who  love,  &c. 


SONG. 


dang't  how  d'ye  do, 

Na'n  won't  you  gi's  a  bufs  ; 
Why  what's  to  do  wi'  you, 

Why  here's  a  pretty  fufs  : 
Say  fhali  we  kiis  and  toy, 

I  goes  to  fea  no  more ; 
Oh  !  I'm  the  failor  boy, 

For  captring  afhore. 

Father  he  apprentic'd  me, 
All  to  a  coafting  fliip  ; 

1  bting  reiblv'd  d'ye  fee, 
To  give  'em  all  the  flip  : 

I  got  to  Yarmouth  fair, 
Where  1  had  been  before  j 


SELECTED   SONGS.  303 

So  father  found  me  there, 
A  capering  alliore. 

Next  out  to  India, 

I  went  a  Guinea  pig  ; 
We  got  to  fable  bay, 

But  mind  a  pretty  rig  ; 
The  fhip  drivtn  out  to  fea, 

Lelt  me  and  many  more, 
Among  the  Hottentots, 

A  capering  alliore. 
I  loves  a  bit  of  hop, 

Life's  ne'er  the  worfer  for  it  ; 
If  in  my  wake  fhould  drop, 

A  fiddle,  '  that's  your  fort'  : 
Thrice  tumble  up  ahoy, 

Once  get  the  labour  o'er  ; 
Then  let  (he  faiior  boy, 

A  capeiing  afhore.  ' 


SONG. 


A  SUP  of  good  whifkey  will  make  you  g]ad, 
Too  much  of  the  creature  will  mike  you  mad, 
li  you  take  in  reafon  it  will  make  you  wife, 
If  you  dr'n'c  to  excef>,  it  will  clofe  up  your  cyei. 

Yet  father  and  mcther, 

And  fi;kr  and  brother, 
They  all  ta«e  a  fup  in  their  turn. 

Some  preachers  will  tell  you  to  drink  is  bad, 
I  think  fo  tuo  if  there's  none  to  be  had  : 
The  fwadltr  will  bid  you  drink  none  at  'ill, 
But  while  I  can  get  it  a  fi^>  for  them  all, 

Both  laymen  and  brother, 

In  fpitc  oi  this  pother, 
Will  all  take  a  lup  in  their  turn. 

Some  doctors  will  tell  ye  'twill  hurt  my  health, 
Aud  jultice  will  fay  'twill  reduce  your  weath, 


304  DIEBIN  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

Phyficians  and  lawyers  will  all  agree, 

When  your  money  is  a  I  gone,  you  can  get  nofcfc. 

Yet  furgcon  or  d;  •iirlv>r, 

And  lawyer  and  pro^or, 
\Viil  ill  take  a  fup  in  thc;r  turn. 

If  A  foldier  rs  drunk  on  his  duty  found 
He  foon  to  the  three  Icgg'd  horl'c  ie  b''uni', 
In  the  face  of  the  regiment  obliged  to  ftrip, 
A  n»£gin  will  foften  the  drummer's  whip. 

For  ferjeani  and  dru.'nnier, 

And  likewife  his  honor, 
Will  all  take  a  fup  in  their  turn. 

The  Turks  who  arrived  from  the  ports  fnblime, 
They  told  us  that  drinking  w.is  held  a  great  crime, 
Yet  after  their  dinner  away  they  flunk, 
And  tippled  their  wine,  til!  they  got  quite  drunk. 

The  Sultan  and  Crommet, 

And  even  Maho'nc  t, 
They  all  take  a  fup  iu  their  turn. 

The  Quakers  will  bid  you  from  drink  abfTain, 
By  yea  2nd  by  nay,  'tis  a  fault  iu  the  vain, 
Yet  fome  of  the  broadbrims  will  get  to  the  fluff, 
And  tipple  away  till  they've  tippl'd  enough, 

For  (lift  rump  or  fhady, 

And  Solomon's  lady, 
Will  all  take  a  fup  iiif  their  turn. 

The  Germans  will  fay  they  can  drink  the  moft, 
The  French  and  Italians  will  alfo  boaft, 
Hiberuia's  the  country,  for  all  their  noife, 
For  genet  ous  drinking  and  hearty  boys, 

There  each  jovial  fellow, 

Will  drink  till  he's  mellow, 
And  take  oiThis  glafs  in  his  turn. 


SONG  —  IN    PRIVATE    TAEATRICAtS, 


RECITATIVE. 


BEHOLD  two  mighty  chiefs  come  on ! 
Not  Hedtor,  iior  yet  Telamon; 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         305 

Who,  '(lead  of  fifts,  cufPd  foes  with  rocks, 

But  two  torn-tits,  or  bantum  cocks: 

Not  like  two  combatants  of  yore, 

Who  flew  the  foe  and  drauk  the  gore, 

Like  tygers,  or  fierce  maftilTdogs — 

But  chiefs  from  Homer's  mice  and  frogs  ; 

Lank  both  in  form  and  voice,  and  taper, 

Like  an  ecl-fkin,  or  a  thread  paper  ; 

Who  ammunition  draw  from  lungs, 

And  wield  not  fwords,  nor  fpears,  but  tongue*. 

Suppofe  them  enter'd  in  the  lift, 

Their  caufe  of  quarrel  who  was  hifs'd, 

Or  groan'd  at  mofl  at  either  houfe  : 

Says  general  frog  to  general  moufe— 


'  Signer  Pantheon 

'  Vat  ting  you  play  on, 
'  To  give  Mr.  John  Bull  delight  ? 

"  Monfieur  Haymarket, 

"  Pray  don't  you  bark  yet, 
"  Nor  lliew  your  toofc,  for  you  can't  bite." 

'  M}'  great  big  houfe  make  people  flare,' 
*'  Vat  ufe  great  houfe,  nobody  dare  ? 
*'  I  do  de  op'ra,  you  miifl  fing  fong  :" 
'  Ninety  foot  wide,  hundred  yard  long, 
'  And  den  great  many  much  foot  high, 
4  The  chandelier  he  touch  de  iky  :' 
"  You  Sadler-veils,  Aftley,  FoxhaH, 
"  All  Di-rrv  Down,  Tit  fol  de  rol  :" 
'  Your  houfe  make  mine  one  fervant-haU/ 
11  I  licenie  get,  you  none  at  all." 

'  Fire  and  fury,  dov'l  in  hell, 
'  Oh  vat  diigr;.rla, 
,  To  my  faccia, 
'  'Tis  ferry  fell, 

'  Fiddlery  finger,  tlancer,  quick 
*  To  a!Tifl  your  gen'ra!  rulli, 
'  Make  hafte,  fhoulder  your  fiddle- flick, 
'  And  all  to  piece  dis  nutihell  crufli.' 
"  Nutfhell  he  full,  he  bring  fome  meal;  a- 
'  Your  fiddic-ititk  no  good  to  cat  a," 


306 


DIBDIN  S    SELECTED    SONGS. 


'  Oh  zounds,  cot  tarn  ! 

'  Vat  rage  1  am, 

'  I  could  my  flefli  for  anger  eat :' 

"  Ah  do,  you'll  get  no  other  meat." 

'  Shades  of  creat  muficians  all, 

'  In  heaven,  in  hell,  or  on  the  deep, 
'  Quick  appear,  obey  my  call!' 

"  Me  won't  appear,  he  fad  a/leep.'' 
c  Bononcini, 

'  Farinelli, 
1  Piccini, 

'  lomelli, 
«  Andallde  clH, 
<  And  Nelli, 
'  And  rini, 
'  And  cini, 

*  Great  fiddling  quire, 

e  Appear  at  found  of  David's  lyre. 

c  Come,  drive  dis  rogue  from  Englifh  land 

1  Fat,  fliort,  and  tall  a  men, 

*  Come,  follow,  follow  men, 
1  David  and  Soloman, 

'  One  fing,  and  todtr  lead  the  band  !' 

"  Ah  you  may  bawl, 

"  You  cini  he  vont  come  at  all." 

«  I'll  (lop  your  mouth,  you  villain  tacf !' 

"  All  dis  line  nizc  dome  get  roaft  beat'!" 

tc  Come  dome  be  fool, 
«'  But  let  us  join, 
"  your  force  and  mine} 
•'  And  den  dome  fear 
"  But  the  nent  year, 
«'  Wid  your  fine  htll, 
"  Your  tund'ring  fvvcll, 
11  May  lit,  ami  ha, 
<(  Mifter  John  Bull 
"  Shall  civ  hoora  .' 
"  Vive  L'Gpefa!" 


IMBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         307 


BALLAD  —  IN    GREAT  NEWS, 


DICK  DOCK,  a  tar  at  Greenwich  moor'd, 

One  day  had  got  his  beer  on  board, 
\Vhcn  he  a  pow  maitn'd  peniioner  from  Chelfea  faw  ; 

And  all  to  have  his  jeer  and  flout, 

For  the  grog  once  in  the  wit's  loo  a   out, 
Cried,  how  good  mafter  Lobftcr  did  you  1  of e_  your  claw  ? 

Was't  that  time  in  a  drunken  fray, 

Or  t'other  when  you  ran  away  ? 
But  hold  you  Dick,  the  poor  foul  has  one  foot  in  the  gray?; 

'Fore  (lander's  wind  too  faft  you  fly, 

D'ye  think  it  fun  ? — you  iwab  you  iic ; 

Misfortune  ever  claim'd  the  pity  of  the  brave. 

Old  Hanibal,  in  words  as  grofs, 

For  he,  like  Dick,  had  got  his  dofe, 
To  try  about  a  wrangling,  quickly  tojka  fpell 

If  I'm  a  Lobfier,.  mailer  Crab, 

By  the  information  on  your  nab, 

In  fome  fcrimmage,   or  other,  why    they've  crack'd  yo«r 
Ihell ; 

And  then  why  how  you  hobling  go, 

On  thi.t  iury  mart,  your  timber  to*-, 
A  nice  one  to  find  fault,  with  one  foot  in  the  grave  ; 

But  halt  old  Hanibal,  halt  !  halt ! 

Ditlrefs  was  never  yet  a  fault, 
Misfortune  ever  claimed  the  pity  of  the  brave. 

If  HanibaPs  your  name  d'ye  fee, 

As  fure  as  they  Dick  Dock  call  me, 
As  one?  it  did  fall  out,  1  ow'cl  my  life  to  you, 

Spilt  from  my  horfe,  once  when  'twas  dark, 

And  nearly  f wallowed  by  a  ihark, 
You  boldly  ptnn'jed  in,  faved   me  and  plcaftd  all  the  crew: 

If  that's  the  cafe  tiien  ceafe  our  jeers, 

When  hoarded  by  the  fame  Mounfeers, 
You,  a  true  Englifli  Lion,  fnatchV  me  from  the  grave, 

Cried  cowards,  d    the  man  no  harm, 

Damfrnee, don't. you  fei  ;    ..   ,     .    r., 

ITisf'jriuue  ever  claimed  pity  from  the  brave, 


3oS         DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS. 

Then  broach  a  can  before  we  part, 

A  frieudly  one,  with  all  his  heart, 
And  as  we  put  the  grog  about,  we'll  chearly  fing, 

At  land  and  fea,  may  Briton's  fight, 

The  world's  example  and  delight, 
And  conquer  every  enemy  of  George  our  Kin^: 

'Tis  he,  that  proves  the  hero's  friend, 

His  bounty  waits  us  to  our  end, 
Though  crippled,  and  laid  up,  with  one  foot  in  the  grave, 

Then  Tars  and  Soldiers  never  fear, 

You  fhall  not  want  companion's  tear, 
Misfortune  ever  claimed  the  pity  of  the  brave. 


BALLAD  -  IN  GREAT  NEWS. 


HAVE  you  heard  of  the  tax,  that    fuch    ftrange   confrerna-- 

tion, 

Hasfpread  through  old  England,  that  poor  helplefs   nation, 
'Tis  hair  powder,  Oh  !  downfall  of  gninealef*  b<.aus, 
"U'ho,  unlicenced,  will  all  look  like  fo  many  crows  : 
.  Hark  the  Frizeurs  exclaim  !  as  diftra<Sted  they  roam, 
'Moiigft  the  knights  of  the  curling  irons,  Chaos  is  come, 
Sing  and  cry,  cry  and  fjng,  mingle  mifery  and  fun, 
England's  never  fo  happy  as  when  'tis  undone. 
The  Hunks,  who  can  boaft  but  a  fingle  colt's  tooth, 
Who,  weighed  down  with  age,  apes  the  fopperies  of  youth, 
Says,  to  ionic  Dulcinea,  '  my  hairs  are  all  grey, 
1  So  I  can't  be  taxed,'  cries  the  Syren,,  "  Nay,  nay, 
"  Not  all  grey — they're  half  black  :" — '  Ah  !'you  dear  coax- 

ing  ninny, 
1  Well,  I'll  pure  ha  fe  a  licence  and  pay  half  a  guinea.' 

Sing  and  cry,  &c. 

Then  the  Knights  of  the  Rainbow — I  fay  my  lord  l>.ikf, 
On  hair  powder  a  tax — take  the  news  there  and  look. 
1  forgot,  you  can't  read — the  ridiculous  fufs, 
Why  what  are  fuch  trifles  as  girneas  to  us  ? 
Jv'unky  pays  for  we  lootmcn— I'll  fport  a  fprucenah, 
And  Old  Quibus  come  down  for't,  or  denimc  I'll  bi.  b-, 
Sing  and  cry,  &c. 


DI.B.OIM  S  SELECTED   SONGS. 

But  the  drol  eft  expedient  \va«  that  of  a  fop, 
A  man  milliner,  where  there  were  four  in  a  fliop  ; 
I've  hit  upi'ii'i,  dcmme  :  as  lawyers  coach  cal!, 
And  drive  four  for  a  {hilling  to  Wettminfler  Hall, 
Five  and  three  peucea  piece,  lads  advance,  baud  it  out> 
We'll  puiciiAfc  a  licence  and  lend  it  about. 
Sing  and  cry,  &c. 

Then  the  tea  table  fee,  I  declare  then  I'm  vexed, 
Cries  out,  Old  Lady  Pyehall,  '  Our  teeth  they'll  tax  next, 
'  I  ihould  trick  'em  at  that  tho'  I  have  but  one  tt.oth  :' 
*'  'Tis  quite  right, '  cried  a  beauty  all  fweetnefs  and    truth, 
"  Take  the  tax,  uke  each  feather,  that  plays  on  my  head, 
"  I  fhall  drefs  the  mbre  plain — but  the  poor  will   get  bred" 
Sing  and  cry,  &c. 

Then,  my  countrymen,  emulate  this  charming  fair, 

Deck  the  heart  nor  regret  how  ne^  e.'.ltd  the  hair, 

While  Frizeurs,  and  Footmen,  and  Fops,  cry  pecuvi, 

We  fhall  all  drefs  more  decent,  and  they'll  man  the  navy; 

Let  our  rulers  go  on  '.hen  of  honour  fecure, 

Each  tax  upon  luxury's  bread  for  the  poor, 

Then  holdall  this  croaking,  and  grumbling  as  fun, 

By  Rich  nonftnfe  Old  England  can  ne'er  be  undone. 


BALLAD — IN  POOR  VULCAI?. 

A  ParoJy, 


DEAR  Maudlin  come  give  me  bright  guineaSj 
For  brighter  none  fure  ever  gave, 

Nor  think  that  I'm  one  of  thofe  ninnies, 
That  can  tell  you  how  many  I'd  have. 

I'm  not  to  be  (tinted  in  pleafure, 
So  to  me  if  you  mean  to  be  kind, 

You  mud  ranfack  old  Crump's  rufty  treafur?, 
And  give  me  whatever  you  find. 

With  a  large  heavy  pnrfe  fo  I  fo!d  theqi 
I  then  my  dear  Maudlin,  am  thine  ; 

In  fatins  and  filks  I'll  behold  thee, 
No  duchefo  e'cs»  dreflal  half  fo  fine  : 


niBDINs    SELECTED  SONGS- 

But  our  pocket  at  prefent  but  thin  is, 
And  foon  what  we  have  will  be  fpent, 

Then  prithee  give  many  more  guineas, 
Or  you'll  find  I  ihall  ne'er  be  content. 

Count  the  rouleaus  at  Almackc  they're  flaking, 
Count  the  bets  laid  in  Newmarket  fields, 

Count  the  cafli  at  the  bank  they  are  taking, 
Count  the  gold  that  rich  Lombard-flreet  yields  I 

Give  a  peep  at  the  India-houfe  coffer, 
Go  number  the  treafury's  ftore, 

And  when  fo  many  guineas  you  offer, 
I  (till  fliailbe  a/king  for  more. 


BALLAD  -  IN   CASTLES  IN   THE  AIR. 


THOUGH  pleafure's  eafily  dtfin'd, 

Droll  mortals  fo  employ  it. 
Scarce  any  two  among  mankind 

Go  the  lamr  way  to  enjoy  it. 
With  fume  a  dying  parent's  groan, 

With  others  ill  got  treafure, 
A  friend  betray'd,  a  widow's  moan. 

An  orphan's  tears  are  plcafure. 
From  no  fuch  fourcc  my  pleafure's  flow, 

Unfafhionably  h^ppy; 
Reafon  fupp'iis  tlie  joys  I  know, 

Their  ztlt  a  jug  of  Nappy. 

Their  country's  downfall,  F&t^ion's  elves, 

For  fun,  would  be  purfuing, 
Though,  Sa:nibn  like,  they  were  themfelvti 

Cruihed  in  the  migl  ty  ruin. 
I,ct  them  go  on,  they  doubt lefs  fee, 

Congenial  to  their  n.itures, 
Some  plealure  in  that  mifery 

They  wifi»  their  fellow  creatures. 
For  me,   protected  while  I  fing, 

My  \vife  and  children  happy, 
My  favorite  toad,  church,  fbte,  and 

Shall  fwceten  my  brown  Nappy. 


DIBDIN'S  SELECTED  SONGS.         311 

Love,  as  facetioufly  we're  told, 

Has  bit-flings  out  of  meafure, 
And  hearts  put  up,  and  bought,  and  fold, 

Confer  a  world  of  pleafure. 
Then  for  the  joys  that  wine  promotes, 

Who  dares,  a  lie  prtfuming, 
Deny  that  brawls  and  cutting  throats, 

Are  fomething  more  than  human  ? 
Why  love  and  drink's  the  zeft  of  life, 

When  Reafon  bids  be  happy  ; 
With  hallow'd  lips  when  a  lov'd  wife 

Biefles  the  fmiling  Nappy. 

Yet  every  mortal  to  his  talle  : 

O'er  others  no  dominion 
Do  I  ufurp,  I've  only  traced, 

With  deference,  my  opinion; 
And,  if  mankind  in  foily  funk, 

Find  glorious  fun  in  treafon, 
In  vicious  love,  in  getting  drunk, 

And  taking  leave  of  reafon  ; 
E'en  let  them  think  fo,  fince  they  will, 

My  own  way  I'll  be  happy  ; 
Of  Rcafon's  pleafures  take  my  fill, 

And  drink  my  jug  of  Nappy. 


BALLAD  —  IN   CASTLES    IN   THE    AIR. 


THE  Yarmouth  roads  are  right  ahead. 

The  crew  with  ardour  burning, 

Jack  lings  out  as  he  heaves  the  lead, 

On  tacfc  and  half  tack  turning; 

By  the  dip  eleven  ! 

Lafh'd  in  the  chains,  the  line  he  coils, 
Then  round  his  head  'tis  iwinging  ; 
And  thus  to  make  the  land  he  toils, 
In  numbers  quaintly  fii,gin£, 

By  the  mark  feven ! 
Andnovr  left  we  run  bump  afhore, 
He  heaves  the  kal,  and  ft.  gi  once  morr 
Quarter  lefs  foui  5 


DIBDINS  SELECTED  SONGS. 

About  fhip  lads,  tumble  tip  there,  can't  you  fee! 
Stand  by,  well  bark,  hark  ;  helm's  a  lee, 
Here  fhe  comes,  up  tacks  and  facets,  haul,  mainfaul  haul» 
Haul  off  all : 

And  as  the  Idng  loft  fliore  they  view, 

Exulting  ihotit  the  happy  crew ; 

Each  finging,  as  the  fails  he  furls, 

Hey  for  the  fiddles  and  the  girls. 

The  next  tack  we  run  out  to  fea, 
Old  England  fcarce  appearing; 
Again  we  tack,  and  Jack  with  glee 
Sings  out  as  land  we're  nearing, 

By  the  dip  eleven  ! 
And  as  they  name  fome  beauty  dear, 

To  tars  of  blifs  the  fummit, 
Jack  joins  the  jelt,  the  jibe,  the  jeer, 
And  heaves  the  pond'roas  plummet; 

By  the  mark  feven  ! 

And  now,  whi:e  dang'rous  breakers  roar, 
Jack  cries,  left  we  run  bump  a  fhore, 
Quarter  lefs  four  ! 

About  ilrip  lads,  tumble,  up  there,  can't  you  fee! 
Stand  by,  well  hark,  hark  ;  the  helm's  a  lee! 
Here  fhe  comts,  up  tacks  and  facets,  haul,  mainfail  haul, 
Haul  ofl'all  : 

And  as  the  long  ioft  fliore  they  view, 
Exulting  fliout  the  happy  crew  ; 
Each  fiuging  as  the  fai's  he  furls, 
Hey  for  the  fiJdies  and  the  girls. 
Thus  tars  at  fea,  like  fwabs  at  home, 

By  tack  and  tack  are  bias'd, 
The  furthtfl  way  about  we. roam, 
To  bring  us  home  the  nigheft; 

By  the  dip  eleven  ! 
For  one  tack  more,  and  'fore  the  \vind, 

Shall  we,  in  a  few  glafles, 
Now  make  the  land  both  true  and  kind, 
To  find  our  friends  and  lafles ; 

By  the  mark  ftven  ! 

Then  heave  the  lead,  my  lad  once  mora3 
Soon  iliali  we  gaily  tread  the  fliore, 
And  a  half  four  ! 
About  fhip,  £c. 


NEW   [AMERICAN] 

PATRIOTIC  SONGS. 

SONG 

ADAPTED    TO    THE 

PRESIDENT'S  MARCH. 

HAIL  COLUMBIA  !  happy  land, 
Hail  ye  HEROES,  heav'n  born  band, 

Who  fought  and  Wed  in  Freedom's  caufc, 
Who  fought  and  bled  in  Freedom's  caufe, 
And  when  the  Storm  of  War  was  gone, 
Eijjoy'd  tke  Peace  your  Valour  won, 
Let  Independence  be  our  boaft, 
Ever  mindful  what  it  cofi ; 
Ever  grateful  for  the  prize, 
Let  its  altar  reach  the  fkies — 
Firm — United  let  us  be, 
Rallying  round  our  Liberty, 
As  a  band  of  brothers  join'd, 
Peace  and  Safety  we  fliall  find. 
Immortal  Patriots  !  rife  once  more, 
Defend  your  Rights — defend  your  fhore  ; 
Let  no  rude  foe  with  impious  hand, 
Let  no  rude  foe  with  impious  hand, 
Invade  the  flirine  where  facred  lies, 
Of  toil  and  Mood  the  well-earn'd  prize. 
While  offering  Peace,  fmcere  and  juft, 
In  Hcav'n  we  place  a  manly  truft, 
That  truth  and juftioe  will  prevail, 
And  every  fcheme  of  bondage  fail — 
Firm — United  let  us  be, 
Ra  lying  round  our  liberty, 
As  a  band  of  Brothers  join'd, 
Peace  and  fafety  we  fliall  fiaol. 

Dd2 


314  NEW   PATRIOTIC  SONGS. 

Sound,  found,  the  trump  of  fame, 
Let  Washington's  great  name, 

Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applaufe, 
Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applaufc, 
Let  every  clime  to  Freedom  dear, 
Liften  with  a  joyful  ear — 

With  equal  flail  with  godlike  pa\v?r, 
He  governs  in  the  fearful  hour 
Of  horrid  war,  or  guides  with  eafe, 
The  happier  times  of  honeft  peace, 
Firm — United  let  us  he, 
Rallying  round  out  Liberty, 
As  a  Band  of  Brothers  join'd, 
Peace  and  Safety  we  fhall  find. 
Behold  the  Chief  who  now  commands, 
Once  more,  to  ferve  his  country,  flands 

The  Rock  on  which  the  Storm  will  heat, 
The  Rock  on  which  the  Storm  will  beat, 
But  arm'd  in  virtue,  firm  and  true, 
His  hopes  are  fix'd  on  Heav'n  and  you — 
When  Hope  was  finking  in  dilmay, 
When  glooms  obfcur'd  Columbia's  day; 
His  fteady  mind  from  changes  free, 
Refolv'd  on  Death  or  Liberty — 
Firm — United  let  us  be, 
Rallying  round  our  Liberty, 
As  a  Band  of  Brothers  jcin'd, 
Peace  and  Safety  we  (hall  find. 

THE  NEW-YORK  PATRIOTIC  SONG, 

CALLED, 

THE  FEDERAL  CONSTITUTION  BOYS  AN© 
LIBERTY  FOR  EVER. 


POETS  may  fmg  of  their  Wellicon  dreams, 
Their  Gods  and  their  Heroes  are  fabulous  dreams, 

T  hey  ne'er  fang  a  line 

Half  fo  grand,   fe  divine, 

As  the  glorious  toaft 

We  Columbians  boaft, 
The  Federal  Ccnjliixt'**  boys,  zndLik-rly  forerer. 


NEW  PATRIOTIC   SONGS.  315 

ADAMS  tic  man  of  o:ir  cho:ce,  guides  the  helm, 
J-AO  tcmpeft  can  hann  us,  no  ftorm  overwhelm  : 

Our  iheet  anchor's  furc 

And  our  bark  rides  fecure, 

So  here's  to  the  toaft 

We  Columbians  boad, 

The  FcJernl  Confutation,  and  the  Prefidcnt  forever. 
A  free  Navigation,  Commerce  and  Tr;;     , 
We'll  feek  for  no  foe,  of  no  fos  be  afraid  ; 

Our  frigates  ilia  11  ride 
'    Our  defence  and  our  pride  ; 

Oar  Tars  guard  our  coaft 

And  huzza  to  our  toaft 
The'  Federal  Conjlitution,  Trait  and  Commerce,  forever. 
Montgomery,  Warren,  ftill  live  in  our  fongs, 
Like  ihtrn  our ywny  lisrots  (hail  1'purn  at  our  wrong*, 

The  world  fliall  admire 

The  zeal  and  the  fire 

Which  blaze  in  the  toafl 

We  Columbians  boaft, 
The  Federal  Cinjitiittifii)  aud  its  advocates  forever. 

When  an  enemy  threats  all  party  fliall  ceafe, 
We  brlbi  no  intruders  to  buy  a  mean  peace, 

Columbians  will  fcorn, 

Friends  or  foes  to  fuborn  ; 

We'll  ne'er  (tain  the  toaft 

Which  as  freeman  we  boaft — 
The  Federal  CoiiJliLution,   and  Integrity  forever. 

i;a,n-i  trumpet  fhall  Avell  in  WASHINGTON'S  praife, 
And  Time  grant  a  furlough  to  lengthen  his  days  ; 

May  health  weave  the  thread 

Of  delight  round  his  head — 

No  nation  can  boaft 

Such  a  name — fuch  a  toaft — 
The  Federal  Canjl:tut:oa  boys,  and  WASHINGTON  forever. 


BOSTON  PATRIOTIC  SONG. 
Tune,  Anacretn  in  Heaven. 


YE  fons  of  Columbia  who  bravely  have  fought 
For   thofe   rights,    which    uiittain'd  from°your  fir;:-,   Lad 
defcended 


3*6  KEW   PATRIOTIC   SONGS. 

May  you  long  tafte  theblcffings  your  valour  has  bought, 

And  yourfons  reap  the  foil  which  your  fathers  defendc 
Mid  the  reign  of  mi:d  ptace,  may  your  nation  incrcafe, 
With  the  glory  of  Rome,  and  the  wifdom  of  Greece; 
And  ne'er  tniy  tbi  fo>:s  ofClIumtia  be  Jl.ivfs, 
While  the  earth  hears  a  j.l.i;it  or  the  fea  rolls  in  ivaTts. 
In  a  clime  wbofc  rich  vales  feed  the  Marts  of  the  world, 

Whole  {bores  are  unlnaken  by  Europe's  commotion, 
The  trident  of  commerce  ihould  never  be  hurl'd 
Toincenle  the  legitimate  powers  of  the  Ocea;i, 
But  fhou'd  Piiatts  invade, 
Though  in  thunders  array'd, 
Let  your  cannon  declare  the  free  charter  of  trade — 

For  nttrfcall  the  forts  ef  Columbia  Ifjlaves,   \$c. 
The  fame  of  our  arm?,  of  our  Laws  the  mild  fway, 

Had  juftly  ennobled  our  Nation  in  irorv, 
Till  the  dark  clouds  of  faiTHon  obfcured  our  young  day, 
And  cnrelcp'd  the  Sun  of  American  glory. 
But  let  traitors  be  told 
Who  their  country  have  fold, 
And  bartcr'd  the  God,  for  his  Image  in  Gold — 

'That  ne'er  li'itl  tlcfant  of  Columbia  keffavtSy    &c, 
While  France  her  huge  limbs  bathes  recumbent  in  blood, 

And  fncicty's  bafe,  threats  with  wide  diiTolution, 
Hay  Peace,  like  the  Dove,  who  return'd  from  the   fioodj 
Find  ;ui  ;>rk  of  abode  in  our  mild  Confutation, 
But  though  Peace  is  our  aim, 
Vtt  the  Boon  we  difclaim, 
If  bnnjht  bv  'nirfov'reignty,  jufHce  or  fame  : 
for  n?''-i  fbaii  taefo>:s  ff  Cflumkit  tejljiics,  Isfc- 

Ti~  tlic  H-f  of  the  flint,   each  American  \v;\r:ns  ; 
Let  Romt's  Itaughty  viclors  beware  of  col'ilion  ! 
;m  briu^'  al!  the  vaff.ils  of  Europe  in  arms, 
(  ;i  varld  by  ourfelves,  and  diidaia  a  divifiori! 
Vivulc  with  Patriot  pride, 
To  our  L-2'.vi  we're  allied, 
•;  c:in  fubdue  us — no  fa&ion  ciiride. 
Ftr  "<?'-/-  /hail  the  fans  of  Col.imlia  btjlaves,  &C. 
Our  Mountains  are  crown'd  with  Imperial  Oak, 

Whofc  roots  like  our  Liberties,  ages  !MVC  nourifh'd, 
But  long  e're  aur  nation  fubauts  to  the  Yoke, 
I\ot  a  tree  fliall  be  Jeft  on  the  field  where  it  flouriih'd. 


NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS.  317 

Should  Invafion  impend, 
Every  grove  would  dcfcend, 

From  the  Hill  tops  they  (haded,  our  iliores  to  defend. 
F»r  ne'er  faall  t/jt  font  »f  Colui>.b:.i  bejlaves^  ISff. 

Let  our  Patriots  deftroy  Anarch's  peftilcnt  worm, 

Left  our  Liberty's  growth  fhou'd  be  check'd  by  cerrofion; 
Then  let  clouds  thicken  round  us,  we  heed  not  the  florin  ; 
Oar  realms  feel   no  fliock,  but  the  earch's  own  explcliau. 
Foei  affi.il  us  in  vain 
Though  their  fleets  bridge  the  main, 
For  our  Altars  and  laws  with  our  live1;  we'll  maintain, 

And  ne'er  Jhall  the  fans  of  Columbia  be  Jlaves,  &C. 
Should  the  tempeft  of  war  overfhadow  our  land, 

Its  bolts  could  ne'e/  rend  freedom's  temple  afunder, 
For,  unmnv'd  at  its  po.  ta!,  would  Wafhington  (hind, 

And  rcpulfe,  with  his  breafl,  the  aflaults  of  the  thunder  ! 
His  fword  from  the  fleep 
Of  its  fcabbard  wou'd  leao, 

And  conduA  with  its  point,  every  flafh  to  the  deep. 
For  ne'er  Jhall  tbt!  fans  ef  Columbia  bejlavcs,    &C. 

Let  Fame  to  the  world  found  America's  voice  ; 

No  intrigue  can  her  fons  from  their  government  fever; 
Her  pride  is  her  Adams — his  Laws  are  her  choice, 
And  fliall  flourifh  till  liberty  flumber  forever. 
Then  unite,  heart  and  hand 
Like  Leonidas'  band, 

And  fwear  to  the  God  of  the  Oci.'an  and  Land, 
That  ns'srjball  the  fons  cf  Cduii.  br ;  !>e  Jl  .vet, 
Will:  the  earth  bean  a  plant  or  the  fix  rails   n  waits. 


SONG. 

OUR  country  !•;  our  fln'p,  d'y'fee, 

A  ga-Unt  veflcl  too  ; 
And  of  his  t'ortunt.  proud  is  he> 

Who's  of  Columbia!*!  crow, 
Each  nian  whatc'er  his  Ration  be, • 

When  duty  rtern  commands, 
Should  take  his  (land, 

And  if  iid  a  hand, 
At  the  common  caufe  demand?, 

»d    3 


Among  ourfelvcs  in  peace  'tis  true, 

We  quarrel— make  a  route  ; 
And  having  nothing  elfe  to  do, 

We  fairly  fcold  it  out  : — 
But  once  the  enen.y  in  view, 

Shake  hands — we  foon  are  friends  ; 
On  the  deck, 
'Till  a  wreck, 
Each  the- common  caufe  defends. 


SONG. 


COME  all  Grenadiers  whom  your  country  invites, 
To  afiemble  in  arms  in  defence  of  her  rights, 
Here  let  us  determine  to  ftand  or  to  fall, 
By  that  glorious  caufe  which  makes  brothers  of  a!!, 
!No  force  here  compells  us  our  paftimes  to  yicid, 
Ourfelves  fey  ourfelves  are  call'd  Jorth  to  the  field, 
Then  let  us  all  range  round  Columbia's  laws, 
Refolv'd  to  live  free  or  die  in  her  caufe. 

Then  let  us,  &c. 

Remember  our  fathers  with  Vafhington  fought, 
And  for  us  Independence  moft  cheerfully  bought, 
Let  us  to  our  children  be  equally  good, 
And  tranfmit  it,  if  needful,  enrich'd  with  our  bloo'd. 
That  blclling  by  union  for  u*  was  procur'd 
And  by  union  alone  can  by  us  be  fecur'd. 

Then  let  us  all  range.  &c. 
*{   Divide  and exterminate "   long  will  prevail, 
As  the  maxim  of  tyrants  where  power  may  fail. 
No  force  froBi  their  bafe  can  our  liberties  tear, 
If  united  the  banners  of  freedom  we  rear. 
And  though  fentiments multiply  under  the  fua, 
Americans  furely  can  now  have  but  one. 

With  courage  to  range,  &c. 

Could  Montgomery,  Mercer,  and  Warren  behold 
With  what  joy  we  the  banners  of  freedom  unlaid, 
Their  bleft  fhades  would  rejoice  and  with  rapture 

exclaim — 

"  Our  example  is  follow'd,  and  guarded  Our  fame." 
Let  their  conduit  be  held  by  each  patriot  dear, 


NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS.  319 

And  their  virtues  he  equalled  by  each  Grenadier, 

While  we  manfully  range,  &c, 
Then  brother  with  brother  uur  arms  we'll  entwine, 
And  courage  and  difcipline  cheerfully  join  ; 
Let  our  iteadinefs  prove  thofe  opinions  are  juft 
Which  place  in  our  conduct  unlimited  trull  '• 
Nor  fo  hard  is  the  tafk  for  mankind  to  be  free- 
Let's  determine  to  be  fo,  and  pride  beads  the  kuee. 

Then  let  us  all  range,  &c. 


SONG. 

TUNE  —  PRESIDENT'S  MARCH. 


"  LO!  I  quit  my  native  fkies— 
To  arms!  my  patriot  inns  arife. 
Guard  your  freedom,  rights  ^nd  fame; 
Guard  your  freedom,  rights  and  fame; 
Prelerve  the  clime,  your  fathers  gave  j 
Heaven's  facred  boon  from  -villains  fave— 
Left  fuch  daring,  impious  foes, 
Your  grandeur  in  oblivion  clofe — 
Your  virtue,  wifdona,  worth  decline, 
And  gafp,  convuls'd,  at  freedom's  fhrine. 
Rife!  my  fons,  to  arms  arife  ! 
Guard  your  heaven  defcendtd  prize ; 
Prove  to  France,  the  ivarld,  and  me — 
COLUMBIA'S  SONS  ARE  BRAVE  AN»  FREE." 
We  hear,  bleft  fliade,  your  warning  voice; 
Approve  your  call — puri'ue  your  choice — . 
With  hearts  united,  firm  and  free. 
With  hearts  united,  firm  and  free. 
The  facred  boon  your  valour  won, 
Shall  wake  to  arms  each  patriot  fon  ; 
Aud  glowing  with  tne  glorious  caufe, 
Ql  freedom,  country,  rights  and  laws — 
The  Horni  of  worlds  our  arn.s  will  brav?, 
Or  fink  with  freedom  to  the  grave. 

Peaceful,  feek  your  native  Ikies— 

Lo  !  to  arnis  your  fons  arife; 

Firm  and  fix'd  our  foes  to  brave, 

Till  heaven's  trump  fluili  burlt  the  grave. 


NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS. 

«'  Worthy  fon»  of  glorious  fires  ; 
Xchold,  the  warning  fhade  retires  ; 
Pleas'd  your  martial  fame  to  fpread  — 
Pleas'd  your  martial  fame  to  fpread— 
Where  immortal  patriots  ftand, 
Watching  freedom's  fav'rite  land  ; 
Charm'd  to  hear  fuch  deeds  of  fame, 
In  holy  choir  they'll  breathe  your  name, 
Till  ancient  heroes  catch  the  found, 
And  thus  the  heavens  with  joy  rebound  — 
Happy  nation  !  brave  and  free  ; 
Friends  te  man  and  liberty  — 
Long  enjoy  the  facred  boon, 
Which  immortal  valour  won." 
Illuftrious  fhade,  to  thee  we  fwear, 
To  freedom's  altar  we'll  repair; 

And,  like  a  band  of  Spartans^  brave, 
And,  like  a  band  of  Spartans,  brave, 
To  Pluto's  realm  each  foe  convey  — 
O'er  lawiefs  tyrants  bear  the  fway  — 
Till  freedom's  banner  is  unfurl'd 
And  waves  around  the  daiken'd  world  ; 
Till  trom  the  centre  to  each  pole, 
In  rapt'rous  founds  fhall  conftant  roll— 
Hail  !  fwect  freedom,  gift  divine  — 
Lo  !  we  bend  before  thy  fhrine, 
Firmly  fix'd  on  this  decree  — 

To  FOLLOW   DEATH  OR  i-IBERTT. 


SONG. 

Tune,  Yankee  Doodle. 


COLUMBIANS  all,  the  prefent  hour, 

As  Brothers  fliould  Unite  us — 
Uflion  at  home's  the  only  way, 
To  make  each  nation  right  us. 
Yankee  Doodle,  guard  your  coaft, 

Yankee  Doodle,  Dandy — 
Fear  not  then  nor  threat  nor  boaft, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy. 
The  only  way  to  keep  off  war, 
And  guard  'gainft  perfccution, 


NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS.  J2I 

Is  always  to  be  well  prepar'd, 
With  hearts  of  rcfolution. 

Yankee  Doodle,  let's  Unite, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy, 
As  patriots,  Aill  maintain  our  right, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy, 

great  WASHINGTON,  who  led  us  on, 

And  Liberty  effected, 
Shall  lee  we'll  die,  or  elfe  be  free  — 
We  will  not  be  fubjc&cil. 

Yankee  Doodle,  guard  your  coaft, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy  —  • 
Fear  not  then  nor  threat  nor  beaft, 
Yankee  Doodle  Dandy. 

A  Band  of  Brothers  let  us  be, 

Willie  ADAIvIS  guinea  inc  nation  ; 
.And  flill  our  dear  bought  Freedom  guard, 
In   every  fituation. 

Yankee  Doodle,  guard  your  coaft, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy  — 
Fear  not  then  nor  threat  nor  boaft, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy. 
Hay  foon  the  wifh'd  for  hour  arrive, 

When  PEACE  tliall  rule  the  nations— 
And  Commerce,  free   from  fetters,  prove 
Mankind  are  ail  relations. 

Then  Yankee  Doodle,  be  divine, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy  — 
Beneath  the  Fig-tree  and  the  Vine, 
Sing  Yankee  Doodle  Dandy. 


SONG. 
TUNE  —  HEARTS  OF   OAK. 


WHILST  Europe  is  wrapt  in  the  horrors  of  war, 
And  our  ocean  is  fpread  with  thtir  fleets  near  and  far  ; 
Shall  we  live  undiiturbed,  or  fliall  party  from  hell 
Divide   all   the   men  who  their  country  wiih  well  ? 

Ko  !  we  all  fliall  be  ready — (r.<zady»  boys,  ftcady  ; 

We  have  fought — if  we  light,  we  fha'.l  conquer  again. 
Tho'  attachments  to  France  boafled  legions  of  friends, 
She  lias  baidy  deceived  them  to  gain  her  own  endi; 


322  NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS. 

Let  her  threat,  let;  her  wheedle,  cajole,  we  difdain 
All  her  fchemes  and  her  power — we're  united  again. 

Let  our  union  be  ready — fteady,  'boys,  fteady, 

And  our  foldiers  gay  clad,  {hall  pluck  laurels  again. 
No  nation  on  earth  muft  difpute  our  ftrong  powers  ; 
Our  refuurces,  our  calmnefs  how  dark  e'er  our  hours  ; 
Nor  defpots  in  mafs,  nor  e'er  one  on  a  throne, 
Shall  tear  from  our  bofoms  one  terrify  *d  groan. 

For  whoe'er  dare  invade  us,  oar  fons  will  not  degrade  us,.. 

Nor  their  lathers'  white  tombs  with  black  infamy  fta'n. 

Let  hunger — let  cold  wiih  his  icy  clad  ftcrrn, 
All  their  horrors  with  fury  unitedly  form  ; 
For  our  country  we  rzmk,  and  our  children  fhall  know, 
That  the  fnakes  'nidft  ourfclvcs  r.re  our  deadlieft  foe. 
In  vain  t1»all  they  hifs,  they  fhall  certainly  kifs 
The  rod,  that  the.ir  eji'mies  do  :yjt  rr.srit  in  vaja. 
To  our  Government  jufh  Conftkution  and  Laws, 
L-t  u-  pay  the  free  tribute  of  virtuous  applaufc  :. 
No  tribute  extorted  by  bribes  from  a  foe, 
But  fuch  as  to  merit  will  cordially  flow, 

To  the  honeft  and  jiifl.    to  the  r.ieii  we  can  truft, 
To  the  men  we  can  drink  without  feeling  difdain. 
If  our  Country  muft  bleed,   let  its  pureft  of  blood 
Tell  the  earth  thtie  thy  fons,  undivided  have  flood  5 
And  for  every  bleft  drop  let  a  ita:ie!  arife, 
"VS'hofe  gallant  gay  green  (hail  poilerity  pri^e. 
Secure  in  our  aid,  on  our  liiil  and  our  glade, 
And  fij;ht  as  we  have  fought,  united  again. 
To  the  band  that  fhall  bind  u»  in  freedom  divine 
Let  the  tribute  fo  chafte  be  libatcd  of  wine — 
Let  that  wine  be  as  found  as  our  hearts  without  fear, 
Are  refolved  from  diffcntion  and  fadlion  to  Acer. 
For  my  toa.it  then  be  ready — fteady,  boys,  fleady, 
Let  us  iive,  fight,   or  die  all  united  again. 


SONG. 


COME  genius  of  our  happy  land, 
And  blefs  this  feflive  day  ; 

Thy  fons  are  v  e,  a  loyal  band, 
Who  love  tLce  aad  obey  : 


NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS. 

Tor  fhould  the  blaft  of  war  be  heard, 

To  threat  impending  harms, 
Secure  beneath  thy  vet'ran  bird, 

We'll  brave  the  wor'd  in  arm*. 
Sold  as  our  Sires,  nor  horn  to  yield, 

But  fcorn  for  fcorn  bellow  ; 
The  blofToms  which  adorn  our  fields, 
Bloom  not  to  deek  a  foe. 

For  lliould  the  blaft  of  war,  &c. 
From  traitor  friends,  withferpent  fmile, 

We'll  rend  the  thin  difguife, 
Who  fpeak  of  faith,  and  love  the  while 
They  pillage  and  defpife. 

"Tor  fliould  the  blaft  of  war,  &c. 
Here  once,  by  folly's  fons  difplay'd, 

The  Gallic  ftandard  fhone; 
No  ribband  now  our  feafts  invade, 
There  waves  our  flag  alone. 

And  fkould  the  blaft  of  war,  &c. 
With  generous  wine  your  bumpers  fill, 

Where  purple  joys  refort; 
Peace  to  the  Sage  of  Vernon  Hill, 
To  Adams  here's  fupport. 

Then  fliould  the  blaft  of  war,  &c. 


©    D    E 

fOR   THE  4//6  OF  JULY   1798. 

THERE'*  Ithabod  has  come  to  taivn, 

From  Philadelphia  city, 

He's  ftroll'd  the  ftreets  all  up  and  daiuat 

And  brought  nice  tales  to  fit  ye! 

He's  been  among  the  peoplij'h  lolks, 

And  i/aivs  they're  rotten  clever, 

They  talk  fo  cute,  and  crack  itch  jokef, 

Would  make  you  ftare  for  ever.          '    ' 

Yankee  doodle  doodle  doo, 

Yankee  doodle  dandy. 

When  times  look  blue, 

The  heart  that's  true, 

Is  fweet  as  Treacle  Ca:idy. 


J24  NEW   PATRIOTIC   SONGS. 

Some  fay,  you  lie — then  Order  cry  ; 
Somte  f|ip,  fomc  Ntfioit   eating  ; 
Some  move,  fome  lit  as  mute  and  fly, 
As  Chairman  at  Town-meeting. 
Some  talk  like  yes,  and  come  aut  nt  : 
Some  laugh  at  French  invafion  ; 
But  in  a  little  while — or  fo — 
We'll  fee  what's  the  occafion. 
Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

Yet  we  11  love  Yankee  land  the  beft, 
Stand  by  her  Jiout  as  _/?/'«£«, 
Tho'  fortly  flump'd  with  fuch  a  peft, 
As  folks  with  foreign  lingo. 
Thefe  cry  for  f wet,  who  once  croak'd  w»H 
And  make  tarnation  wonder, 
Eccaufe  we  can  no  longer  bear 
Our  Friends  to  rob  and  plunder. 
Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

There's  fome  count  cofl  with  fwamping  rant, 
Thefc  crawl,  that  they  may  clamber, 
And  ring  the  room  with  feofli/b  cant, 
Tho'  big  as  our  tarn  chamber. 
To  fpare  fome  cents,  they  twift  and  turn, 
Tho'  fleets  and  armies  crave  them  ; 
And  fliould  our  taii-ns  be  like  to  burn — 
They  can't  afford  to  fave  them. 
Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

For  time  fome  talk,  and  fome  forfpite, 
They  wince  and  growl,  when  ground  hard, 
And  hobble,  when  they  mu/l  go  right, 
Like  our  aid  Ball  that's  founder'd. 
Tho'  fome  be  weak  yet  more  are  flrong 
As  flip,  with  rum  and  cider, 
And  if  they  all  can  get  along 
Our  fh'p — why  let  'cm  guide  her. 

Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

If  fomeihing's  wrong,  there's  more  that's  right, 
The  leaks  will  foon  be  fpy'd  out, 
An»J,  with  our  veflel  (launch  and  tight, 
The.  j><ile  we'll  feud,  or  ride  out. 
Our  YANKEE  CHIEF  {hall  con  cur  courfc, 
Though  foes  may  gibe  or  rake  him, 
And,  while  he  fteary  ket   s,  the  worfc 
The  Sarfents  hifs,  and  hate  him. 
Yankee  dood'e,  &c. 


NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS.  325 

Ic  faw  our  Envoy  found  and  true, 
Who  left  the  Cits  a  frothing, 
And  is  among  the  nation  few 
One  likes — for  doing  nothing  : 
If  nothing  'tis  t'  ajjlrt  our  Right, 
When  hollow  Friends  would  fliake  it, 
And  bring  th'  old  Sarpents  fchemes  to  Light, 
Nor  give  a  Bribe,  nor  take  it. 
Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

He  tells  us  of  one  Talleyrand 
Who  (trove  to  hum  and  fob  us  ; 
And  if  we'd  give  our  purfe,  and  ftaud— 
Mayhap — they  would  not  rob  us. 
But  let  us  now  taclleto 
And  join  all  hands  at  mufter ; 
We'll  keep  our  cafli  to  fight  the  crew/ 
Nor  fear  their  threats  OJT  biufter. 
Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

Let's  all  with  honed  heart  and  foul 
At  fo'dier'-  trade  be  handy  ; 
Curfe  Ca  Ir  i  and  Carmagnole, 
And  march  to  Doodle  Dandy  : 
Then  let  them  come,  with  force  or  hum, 
If  'hey'il  fij'.ht  lair,  we'll  beat  'em  : 
And  for  their  *'  fkill"  and  tricks — but  mum--* 
By  Zeonnds — vt'e've  Folks  cau  cheat  'em. 
Yankee  doodle,  &c. 

Our  tried  old  chief  is  coming  forth, 

Again  to  'cad  and  fave  us  ; 

Again  to  flieu  his  ftreugth  and  worth, 

When  foes  infuit  and  brave  us  : 

Our  nation's  boaft — his  name  a  hoft  ; 

Let  foes  and  traitors  fear  him ; 

Be  Wafliingtc.il  each  patriot's  toaft  : 

Then  rife  to  hail  aud  cheer  him. 

Yankee  dood'e,  doodle  do 

Ymiky  doodle  da-uiy, 

When  times  run  .ouj'h.  tie  hearts  that'*  true 

Is  fwect  as  'laflej-tiinilj. 

Ee 


226  NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS, 


OUR  COUNT  JiT'S  EFFICIENCY! 
Tune  —  "  Ta  Anacreon  ia  Heaven,  tiff." 


YE  fons  of  Columbia,  determin'd  to  keep 
Thofe  choice    Bleffings  and  Rights,  that  for  years  have 

dtfctnded, 

From  the  battles  and  blood  of  your  fires  —  who  now  ficep, 
And  wko  gain'd  by  the  fword,  what  with  lift  they  defended: 
Swear,  and  fhout  in  the  fong, 
In  a  flrain  loud  and  long, 

Until  heaven  like,  earth,  fliall  its  echo  prolong  — 
That  necrJbM  Columbia  be  r^'Jcl  of  a  Right 
Vlrbil<:  the  fin  rules  the  day,  or  the  moon  rules  the  ingl-t  ! 
Since  *he  period,  part,  when  our  fires  won  the  Prize 

Which  fair  Freedom  and  Juftice  decreed  as  their  portion  ; 
JLo  !  their  plant,  grown  a  tree,  tow'rs  o'er  earth  to  the  fkies  ! 
And  commands  from  the   world,  admiration,    devotion; 
Ifs  once  young  tender  rind, 
Felt  the  biaft  of  each  wind  ; 

Now  its  roots  firm  are  fix'd  —  nor  heeds  torrents  combined  ! 
And  ne'er,    &c. 

The  mild  fw^y  of  our  laws,  like  the  fame  of  our  arms, 

Has  avifcn  fnperior  to  hate  and  detraction  : 
Here,  Virtue  and  Reafon  need  feel  no  alarms, 

from  the  threats  of  French  gas,  nor  the  pow'r  of  French 

faction  : 

We're  ,\  World  feparate, 
A  kingdom  each  fhitf  — 
And  in  numbers,  and  means,  are  invincibly  great. 

And  ne'er,  &C. 
France  fays  we're  Divided  !  and  views  us  her  prey  I— 

But  to  ihc-w  her  our  fcern,  and  convince  her  of  error, 
'Tis  the  pure  fire  of  heaven  now  lends  us  its  ray, 

Light  up  Truth  in  her  glory,  and  Vice  ftrikes  with  terror; 
She  fliall  fee,  feel,  and  fear, 
That  the  moment  is  near, 
When  our  country  will"  live,  herfelf  fink,  difeppear  ! 

efbatne\r^  &C. 

The  great  chief  of  Columbia,  JOHN  ADAMS,  fliall  be, 
Supported  by  All  who  deleft  broil  and  fadion  ; 


NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS.  ,327 

And  the  world  will  admire,  as  our  Union  they  fee — 
feeling  all  with  one  foul — and  impelled  by  oiiea&iou  : 
E'er  determined  to  fight 
To  maintain  ev'ry  right, 
And  Columbia  guard  fafe  from  all  Europe's  defpitc  ! 

No  !  ne'er  &C. 
Shall  the  proud  Cock  of  Gallia  e'er  crow  among  our  hens  ? 

Shall  he  tread  on  our  foil,  to  impregnate  pollution  ? 
We  will  foon  wring  his  neck  if  he's  feen  thro'  the  lens—* 
And  thus  rid  all  mankind  of  a  banelul  delufion  ; 
Tho'  extinction  we  hate, 
Yet  to  ioften  his  fate, 
Shall  his  own  guilioiine  his  curs'd  fpirit  tranflate  ! 

And  ne'er,   &C. 

And  has  not  great  WASHINGTON,  offer'd  again, 
To  lead,  and  to  march,  in  fupport  of  our  nation  ! 
Then,  Americans,  roule  !  to  the  field  and  the  main, 

And  there  cruih  ev'ry    wretch  that  oppofes  your  fUtion  1 
Let  your  cannon  and  fword, 
All  protection  afford — 
Shew  your  firmnefs,  your  courage — fo  fam'd  fo  ador'd. 

Swear  ne'er,  &c. 
Woods  and  rocks,  round  ourfhores,  fliould  occafion  e'er  be, 

Would  by,  inftindt,  at  once  form  a  navy  and  a  barrier: 
And  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  the  fifli  of  the  fea, 

Would  repel  ev'ry  Talleyrand,  Marat,  and  Carrier  : 
Not  a  beaft  of  the  field. 
Nor  an  mfcCt  would  yield, 
'Till  their  life  on  the  (hrine  of  their  country  they  feal'd  ! 

No  ne'er,   itfc. 
Old  Neptune,  enrag'd,  from  the  ocean  would  rife, 

And  o'erwhelm  ev'ry  foe  that  fhould  dare  an  iuvaiion  ; 
And  Jove  would  his  thunder-bolts  hurl  from  the  flcies — 
And  Olympus  would  arm  in  defence  of  our  nation  ! 
From  the  grave  would  afcend 
Ev'ry  patriot  friend, 
Who  Columbia's  liberties  died  to  defend ! 

No  ne'er,  &c. 
Bellona  o'er  Europe  may  drive  her  fierce  car, 

And  with  anarch  keep  up  a  bload-thirfty  commotion; 
The/'  the  horrors  of  carnage,  and  mis'ries  of  war, 

May  keep  foreign  clime*  to  the  death-ftriking  motion  ; 


-328  NEW  PATRIOTIC  SONGS. 

Our  Columbia,  in  peace, 
Will  be  gath'ring  the  fleece: 
And,  in  war,  fliall  her  wealth,  firength  and  power  inerea/e  ! 

And  ne'er  i  &C. 
Intrigue  and  Sedition  fliall  ne'er  cut  the  band 

That  encircles   our  Government,  Laws,  Faith  and 

Union  ! 

We'll  fupport  ev'ry  Claim  on  the  ocean  and  land, 
And  with  Wifdom  and  Juftice  e'er  be  in  commotion  ! 
Then  let  this  be  our  cry — 
That  "  Divided  we  die  : 

41  And,  United  we  fear  not  a  foe  'neath  the  fky  !" 
And  >a\r  Jkall  Colun.bia  bs  robbed  of  a  right, 

t  tbfjun  Tula  tbt  ttay}  or  tbt  won  rulti  the  niakt  I 


INDEX. 


And  did  you  not  hear  of  a  jolly  yeung  waterman,  3 

A  kernel  from  an  apples  core,  13 

A  plague  take  all  fuch  grumbling  elves,  18 

A!i  me !  what  filly  things  you  are,  3  r 

At  a  jovial  meeling  of  Gods,  34 

A  bed  of  mofs  we'll  ftr.iight  prepare,  38 

A  plague  of  thofe  mufty  old  lubbers,  47 

A  failor's  life  is  void  of  art,  49 

As  Dermot  toil'd  one  fummer's  day,  50 

A  tinker  I  am,  60 

Art  one  of  thofe  mad  wags  61 

A  novice  in  love,  62 

Arni'd  v.ith  jav'lin,  arm'd  with  dart,  74 

At  fir  ft  like  an  infant  appearing,  •;($ 

A  failor's  life  is  a  life  of  woe,  82 

Away  and  join  the  rendezvous,  83 

Alas  where  fliall  I  comfort  find,  8? 

Abergavney  is  fine,  92 

And  did  you  hear  what  fad  disaftcr,  112 

A  failor,  and  an  honeft  heart,  112 

Away,  paie  fear  and  ghaftly  terror,  114 

Ah  let  not  an  inftant,  114 

An  infant  defencelefs,  of  fuccour  bereft,  i2i 

Adieu,  adieu,  my  only  life,  '29 

Avert  yon  omen,  gracious  heaven,  ijy 

Alas  !  the  battle's  loft  and  won,  164 

Adieu  my  gallant  failor,  164 

Arrah  if 'tis  no  lie  in  this  world,                   _  166 

A  mighty  Sultan  once  for  fun,  170 

Alas  !  where  is  my  love  gone,  176 

A  word  in  your  ear  if  you  pleafe  Mr,  Fop,  1 33 

As  wit  and'Beauty  for  an  hour,  3  95 

Ah,  have  you  forgot  then,  206 

A  faying  'twas,  when  I  was  young,  207 

Alas!  when  once  the  book  of  life,  aoS 

A  while  in  ev'ry  nation,  ai  i 

As  dulcet  found  on  cether  floats  330. 


a  INDEX. 

A  watchman  I  am,  t^i 

All  endeavors  fruitlefs  prove,  233 

A  fliepherd  long  figh'd,  337 

Anacreon  tells  us,  249 

A  bard  in  yonder  corner  fee,  284 
As  a  plain  cafe  in  point  is  the  beft  way  of  explaining,      239 

A  fup  of  good  whiiky  will  make  you  glad,  393 

B 

Blow  high,  blow  loir,  let  tempefh  tear,  6 

Brother  foldier  why  cafl  down  19 

By  love  and  fortune  guided,  29 

Bright  gems  that  twinkle  from  afar  32 

By  rogusry,  'tis  true,  41 

Behold  the  fairies'  jocund  band,  jS 

Be  it  known  to  all  thofe,  75 

Ben  Backfliy  lov'd  the  gentle  Anne,  91 

Bold  Jack  the  failor  here  I  come,  133 

Bards  call  themfelves  a  heav'nly  race,  141 

Bled  friendship  hail !  149 

But,  perhaps  thus  boldly  expofing  each  e!f,  1 51 

Beauty  I  fell,  who'll  buy,  152 

Bleak  was  the  morn,  167 

Be  others  the  ungracious  taflc,  2-cj 

Bacchus  come,  thy  vot'ry  own  me,  2C9 

Be  quiet  that  blackbird  and  thrufli,  220 

Befecch  ye,  would  ye,  244 

Behold  two  mighty  chiefs  advance,  304 


Come  all  ye  gem'men  volunteers  8 

Come  every  man  now  give  his  toaft,  9, 

Come  here  ye  rich,  25 

Curtis  was  old  Hodge's  wife,  28 

Come,  courage  lads,  and  drink  away,  38 

Chairs  to  mend,  old  chairs  to  mend,  S 9 

Come  around  me  and  weep,  80 

Come  painter  with  thy  happieft  flight,  81 

Crown  me  Bacchus,  mighty  god,  9? 

Cotchelin  fet  all  alone,  106 

Ce'ia's  an  angel,  by  her  face,  116 

Curfed  be  the  fordid  wretch  of  yore,  123 

Come  all  you  maids  who  fain  would  marry,  084 

Come  all  h.inds  ahoy  to  the  anchor,  193 

Contentment  loft  each  others  treafure,  £03 


INDEX.  Hi 

Come  here  ye  fair,  203 

Cupid,  cried  Vulcan,  'tis  no  jeft,  204 

Come  away  then  at  my  eall,  221 

Come  buy  my  ftraw,  243 

Come  here,  come  here,  my  pretty  dear,  292 

Come  round  me  ye  JafTes,  300 

Come  all  who  lore,  301 

Come  all  grenadiers  whom  your  country  invites,  313 

Columbians  ail j  the  prefent  hour,  320 

Come  genius  of  our  happy  land,  322 

D 

Did  fortune  bid  me  chufe  a  ftate,  36 

Do  falmons  love  a  lucid  ftream,  47 

Dear  Yanko  fay,  and  true  he  fay,  97 

Devoted  to  Celia,  122 

Dear  John  prithee  tell  me»  157 

Dapper  Ted  Tattoo  is  my  natty  name,  i6r 

Don't  you  fee  that  as  how,  2^6 

Dick  Dock,  a  tar  at  Greenwfch  moor'd,  307 

Dsar  Maudlin  come  give  me  bright  guineas,  309 

E 

Excufe  me,  pray  ye  do,  dear  neighbour,  l6 

F 

For  dainties  I've  had  of  them  all, 
From  prudence  let  my  joys  take  birth, 
Firft  chufe  a  pretty  melody, 
Tar  from  ftrife  and  loves  alarms, 
Forgive  me  if  thus  I  prefuming, 
Far  removed  from  noife  and  fraoak, 
For  wedlock's  a  royage, 
For  I  am  the  girl  that  was  made  for  my  Joe, 
Fine  fport,  indeed,  for  god  and  godlin, 

G 

Go  patters  to  lubbers  and  fwabs  d'ye  fee,  (,n 

Give  round  the  word  difmount,  I2c 

Go,  proud  lover  go,  20  r 

Gay  Bacchus,  and  Mercury,  and  I,  209 

Give  ear  to  me,  both  high  and  low,  23? 


iSr  INDEX, 

H 

Mere's  all  her  geer,  14 

How  kind  and  how  good  of  his  dear  majefty,  26 

Here  lleepsin  peace,  3Z 

Mere  I  was  my  good  matters,  35 

Here  lies  a  philofopher,  knowing  and  brave,  8? 
How  much  I  love  thee  girl  would'ft  know, 

Here  a  fheer  hulk,  lies  poor  Tom  Bowling,  106 

Hark  the  din  of  war,  134 

He  ran  to  the  farm  yard,  and  there  bit  a  hog,  r/7 

Haughty  Celia,  ftill  clifdaining,  236 

Hear  the  merry  minftrel  found,  247 

How  happy  fhe,  343 

Have  you  heard  of  the  tax,  3°« 

Hail  Columbia  !  happy  land,  3*3 

I 

I  faw  what  feem'd  a  harmlefs  child, 

I  ideed  mils,  fuch  fweethearts  as  I  am, 

I  locked  up  all  my  treafure, 

I  loft  my  poor  mother, 

I  fail'd  in  the  good  fliip  the  Kitty, 

If  'tis  to  wifli  you  near, 

In  all  your  dealings  take  good  care, 

I'll  mount  the  cliffs, 

Is't  my  ftory  you'd  know, 

Jack  Ratlin  was  the  ableft  feaman, 

Is  it  little  Tom  Thumb  you  mean, 

I  thought  we  were  fiddle  and  bow, 

I  fing  of  a  war  fet  on  foot  for  a  toy, 

I  iing  UlyfTes  and  thole  chiefs, 

I've  made  to  marches  Mars  defcend, 

In  ljaris,  as  in  London,  5  8 

I  am  a  jolly  fifherman, 

I  fail'd  from  the  downs  in  the  Nancy, 

I'm  jolly  Dick  the  lamplighter,  9? 

I  am  the  world's  epitome,  ° 

I  was  d'ye  fee  a  waterman, 

I  vow  I  thought  you,  at  fir  ft  fight, 

I  went  to  fea  with  heavy  heart, 

J  pray  you  when  your  iweetheart  pouts, 

If  my  hearty, 

In  which  of  all  thy  various  joys, 

If  tars  of  their  money  are  lavifh, 


INDEX.  * 

I  he  one  of  thy  failors,  130 

I  was  the  pride  of  all  the  Thames,  13 1 

I'm  dafhing  Dick  the  duftman,  137 

If  bold  and  brave,  138 

In  peace,  when  fprightly  drum  and  fife,  14^ 

Jack  dances  and  tings,  14? 

I  that  once  was  a  ploughman,  i>"4 

In  the  motly  feather'd  race,  171 

I  fmg  of  that  lift-  of  delight,  i74 

I  am  a  chairman  my  name  is  Mc'Gee,  181 

I've  health,  and  I  have  fpirits  too,  183 

In  vain,  dear  friends,  203 

In  the  month  of  may,  «ia 

I  made  a  promife  to  be  wife,  213 

If  ever  a  failor  was  fond  of  good  fport,  216 

In  ev'ry  fertile  valley,  236 

I'm  up  to  all  your  tricks,  my  dear,     .  S3? 

Infpir'd  by  fo  great  a  duty,  24.5 

In  one  thou'dft  find  variety,  2J4 

If  you'll  only  juft  promife,  aj5 

I  thought  and  I've  faid  it,  «59 

J  never  fhall  lurvive  it,  cried  Lumkin  in  defpair,  262 

If  lubberly  landfmen,  267 
Is't  my  country  you'd  know,  I'm  an  Irifhman  born,          269 

I'm  a  cook  for  the  public,  275 

I  am  one  of  thofe  pretty  tonifb  fmarts,  17* 

I've  heard,  cried  out  one,  a8o 


Let  your  courage  boy  be  true  t'ye,  32 

Look  fairly  all  the  world  around,  75 

Let  bards  elate,  85 

Like  a  very  gallant  will  I  compliment  all,  120 

Lovely  woman,  pri'lc  of  nature,  135 

Let  fons  of  floih  dream  time  away,  158 

Ladies  and  gentlemen  I'm  a  beau,  162 

Life's  a  jt  ft,  fays  the  poet,  1 68 

L-nvyers  pay  you  with  words,  175 

Love's  a  cheat ;  we  over  rate  it  200 

Lord  what  be  all  the  rich  and  great,  223 

Life's  as  like  as  can  be  to  an  Irifh  wake,  37* 

Look  all  over  the  worid,  281 

Life's  general  chafe,  233 

Lo  !  I  quit  my  native  {Lies,  319 


vl  INDEX. 

M 

Madam,  you  know  my  trade  is  war,  ja 

My  lord,  and  pleafe  you,  he  and  I,  jo 

My  name  is  Ttd  Blarney,  I'll  be  bound,  27 

My  tears — alas!  I  cannot  fpeak,  3O 

Mankind  all  get  drunk,  j6o 
My  bofom  is  proof, 
Meek  I'll  !)e  as  Venus'  dove, 
My  grandfather's  grandiather,                                         •     5,97 

N 

Nofegays  I  cry,  and  though  little  you  pay,  64 

Now  you  fiiall  fee  what  you  fiiall  fee,  260 

No  more  of  waves  and  winds  the  fport,  277 

O 

Orra  no  talk,  no  fay  fine  word,  »7 

O  think  on  the  time,  ^0 

Of  all  fenfations  pity  brings,  gg 

Of  the  ancients  is't  fpeaking,  94 

Once  on  a  time  to  mighty  Jove,  joS 

Our  Jupiter  has  near  his  throne,  116 

One  negro,  wi  my  banjer,  140 

Oh  money,  thou  maftcr  of  all  things  here  below,  175 

On  Cochetini  loves  attend,  jgo 

Oh.  the  camp's  delightful  rigs,  1^6 

Oft  has  the  world  been  well  defin'dj  214 

On  Olympus  blue  fummit,  263 

Oh  yts,  oh  yes,  oh  yes,  237 

Our  country's  our  ihip  d'ye  fee,  317 

P 

Parents  may  fairly  thank  themfelves,.  26 

Poor  Orra  tink  of  Yanko  dear,  37 

Pafiion  is  a  torrent  rude,  38 

Propitious  gods  that  rule  our  fate,  114 

Poor  Ptsgy  lov'd  a  foldier  lac?,  153 

Pray  ladies  think  not  I  prefume,.  185 

Praife  is  a  mirror,  301 

Poor  negro  fay  one  ting  you  no  take  offence,  299 

Poll  dang't  how  d'ye  «!o,  3c* 

Poets  may  fmg  of  their  Helicon  ftreams,  §14 


R 

Refplendent  gleam'd  the  ?mple  moon,  9 

Rail  on  at  joys  that  are  net  thine,  19 


INDEX.  vii 

s 

Sing  the  loves  of  John  and  Jean,  20 

See  the  courfe  throng'd  with  gazers,  46 

Sweet  ditties  would  my  Patty  fing,  5» 

Says  Fanuy  wilt  thou  go  with  me,  03 

Smiling  grog  is  the  failor's  bell  hope,  71 

Say  fluttering  heart,  77 

Sure  'ent  the  world  a  mafquerade,  9^ 

Sweet  is  the  dew  drop  on  the  thorn,  9t 

Such  as  love  holy  hermits  bear,  124 

So  fweet  I'll  dre'fs  my  Zootka  fair,  146 

Sweet  fung  the  lark,  high  poif'd  in  air,  i  j6 

Spankirg  Jack  \vas  1'ocomeiy,  Ie>5 

Such  ufage  as  this  is.  what;  wife  but  myfelf,  305 

She  who  linked  by  her  fate,  206 

Swi-etly,  fwcetly,  let's  enjoy,  2IO 

Since  Zcph'rus  rirft  taftfd  the  charms  of  coy  Flora,  218 

Says  me  father,  favs  he    one  day  to  I,  228 

Since  artful  man  lo  oil  betrays,  237 

Sportfmen  who  arc  Haunch  and  true,  242 

Svvtet  is  the  fliip  that  under  fail,  24$ 

See,  fee  to  join  the  revel  rout,  247 

Say  foldkrs  which  of  glorv't  charms,  249 

Standing  one  day  on  the  Towtr  Slip,  2^3 

T 

There  v/as  a  miller's  daughter,  T 

Two  youths  !',ir  n-v  love  are  contending  in  vain,  2 

Then  farewell  my  trim  huitt  wherry,  4 

'Twas  in  a  vil'aee,  ne-ir  Cafr'cbury,  4 

The  wor.d's  a  {trang<"  world,  5 

The  little  oirds  as  wet!  as  you,  6 

That  nature  every  vv here's  the  fame,  7 

The  mo.B'MK  Aurorapecp'd  iu'-J  my  room,  8 

There  was  a  joily  fliepheid  lad,  15 

They  tell  me  you  lirtcu  to  all  that  he  fays,  17 

'Tis  truethat  oft,  in  the  fame  mead,  18 

•Twas  not  her  eyes,  2Z 

Tnis  life  is  like  a  troubled  fea,  27 

The  riling  fun  Lyfan^cr  found,  30 

The  coy  P^flora  Damon  woo  d,  3  I 

The  fun's  a  f:  -.(.-mafou,  33 

The  ladies  r.-     -,.   r..v,v  a  days,  35 

Tliau'U  heard  thofe  old  proverbs,  3$ 


viii  INDEX. 

This,  this  my  lad's  a  foldiers  life,  51 

That  al]  the  world  is  up  in  arms,  53. 

Thou  man  of  rirmnefs  turn  this  way,  5J 

Theyouuker,  who  his  firflefTay,  64 

'Tis  laid  we  venturous  ciie  hard's,  6$ 

The  grey  ey'd  Aurora,  66 

The  fpaugled  green  cnufcfled  the  morn,  68 

That  girl  who  fain  would  chuie  a  mace,  77 

'Twas  in  the  good  fhip  Rover,  78 

The  morning  breaks,  79 

'Tis  true  :he  marks  of  many  years,  80 

To  Bachelor  s  ha  1  we  good  fellows  invite,  84 

'T\vas  S.Uurday  night  the  twinkling  ftars,  80 

Than  marriage  and  mufic,  87 

The  wind  \\as  l.L.iiru  die  fleecy  wave,  89 

To1o$k  upondrefa,  103 

The  florin  had  c<..    ' ',  107 

The  boatfwain  ca  's,  the  wind  ib  fair,  iio 

Truly  friend  Gil  liioa  thoofed  well,  1 14 

This  life's  a  -.'aj's  purnev,  ilj 

The  win;!  b!e\v  hard,  Ji7 

To  a  flight  ccmmon  wound,  123 

To  afk  w»uld  you  come  for  to  go,  r*6 

The  fun's  defccnding  in  the  wave,  13! 

The  wind  was  luifh'd,  i  j4 

Two  real  tars  whom  duty  call'd,  156 

Tise  tar's  ajoMy  t;:r  that  can  band,  *43 

Time  was,  for  oil  tiicrr.  was  a  time,  !<i5 

Tight  lads  hive  I  fail\!  with,  151 

To'the  plain,  to  the  plai..,  hark!  J^3 

Tl:e  (>eafant  in  his  humble  cot,  l,§5 

Th;s  here'.-  what  I  d-.ts,  »74 
To  be  mad  for  a  bufbaod, 

To  ev'ry  fav'iitt  village  fpi  rt,  J^* 
The  falcon,  row'ring  liigb  in  air, 

This  :i,i-  i-.  like  a  country  dance,  1*4 

The  pafi'u'fc  hell  vas  hraid  to  toll,  1^° 

The  i'unje  iio.nVy  iMir.u'ring,  J94 

Too  yielding  a  c<  ;  .'ajc,  2°^ 
Tiicre's  fq.ucthing  in  women, 
TcU  me-  aeighbour,  ;«:li  me  plain, 
This  fh-angc  cmuti:  n  at  my  heart, 
The  hitc/f  wa»  '"reih,   the  fliip  in  flays, 
Tht  marual  pomn. 

The  world  a  good  thing,  £I9 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


APR  2  2 1985 


35m-8,'71(P6347s4)-C-120 


?^^^!l?Sl^S^iflliiiiii 


I  111  111  ll"  inn  in"  l11" ••'" 

A    000000170     1 


